Harry Potter and the Phoenix's Song
by Nymphadora Summers
Summary: After defeating Voldemort and saving the world, Harry wanted his final year at Hogwarts to go by trouble free. Unfortunately, an orphaned Death Eater has other plans for the Boy Who Lived. Post-HPatDH, ignoring Epilogue. Harry/Hermione pairing.
1. The Letter

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter and my work could never do justice to the world JK Rowling has created. I offer my writings as a tribute to the brilliance of JK Rowling.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: The Letter<strong>

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry awoke with a start. Grabbing his glasses from the bedside table, he quickly looked around. He saw Ron, across the room from him, snoring quite loudly, and, through the open window, he could see the moon shining brightly in the night sky. It had only been a dream. Well, a memory, Harry thought to himself. Wide-awake, Harry crept out of Ron's room and downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and perhaps make a small midnight snack. As Harry fumbled through the cabinets looking for a glass, his mind wandered back to the memory that had woken him. It had been nearly four months since his duel with Voldemort in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Since his disarming charm and Voldemort's death curse met. Since the wizarding world was finally rid of the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Since so many people Harry had known and cared about had paid for the peace that now reigns with their very lives.

"Why did they have to die?" Harry whispered aloud, taking a deep breath.

But before the usual waves of guilt and regret could wash over Harry, he heard a sound behind me. Reflexively, he spun around, wand drawn, and said, "Who's there?"

Ginny stepped out from the shadows, her wand also drawn. Everyone currently living the Burrow knew better than to sneak up on Harry after he accidently stupefied Ron a month after the Battle of Hogwarts, when Ron decided to try and scare Harry from behind.

"It's okay, Harry. It's me, Ginny. Can you put down your wand now?" She asked quietly.

"Oh… Right. Sorry, Ginny. I guess… I guess I still haven't let me guard down… I'm really sorry." Harry stammered quickly, stuffing his wand back into his pant pocket. "What are you doing up?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Ginny retorted with a slight chuckle.

Harry smiled. He and Ginny had been officially dating since the Battle of Hogwarts had ended. Ron was not too thrilled with it at first, but eventually he gave his blessing to his best friend and his little sister. The rest of the Weasley's were happy, but not all that surprised, to hear that Harry and Ginny were together. Though Bill had secretly told Harry, "I always thought you and Hermione would end up together. Nothing against Ron, I'm glad they are happy together, but you always just seemed more of Hermione's type." Harry thought back to the images that had come out of the locket horocrux. Though Harry had always maintained that he loved Hermione as a sister, deep down, did he wish Hermione was his?

"Hello? Earth to Harry Potter." Ginny said in a raised whisper.

Harry, giving his head a slight shake, focused his eyes on Ginny. "Sorry! Um, I needed a glass of water and thought about making a midnight snack. Care to join?" Harry asked with mischievous smile.

"Thought you would never ask," Ginny replied, with a mischievous smile of her own. "You get the waters, I'll make the snack."

So as Harry pulled down to glasses from the shelf and began filling them with water, Ginny walked over the pantry and grabbed some bread, peanut butter, and jelly. She set them on the counter and, with a few flicks of her wand, the bread bag opened and four pieces of bread zoomed out, circled around Harry's head, and landed on the table.

Harry laughed, "Hold on! Hold on! I want to make them by hand, without magic."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out two butter knives.

"You spread the jelly and I'll spread the peanut butter," he told Ginny, that mischievous smile back on his face.

Giving Harry a suspicious look, she took one of the butter knives and began spreading the jelly on two of the slices of bread. Harry, innocently enough, began spreading the peanut butter in a similar fashion. Then, when Ginny wasn't looking, he dipped his finger into the peanut butter and smeared it on the side of her face.

"Oi!" Ginny shouted, before clasping her hand over her mouth, while Harry was doubled over, trying laughing silently.

As quickly as Harry had gotten her, Ginny dipped her hand in the jelly and smeared it, with great satisfaction, all over the wizard's smiling face. Harry was reaching for the jar of peanut butter to begin the second round of battle, when he saw a figure in the doorway of the kitchen. He and Ginny froze on the spot, fearing it was Mr. Weasley or worse, Mrs. Weasley. However, their fears soon subsided when Hermione walked into the kitchen.

"I swear, I'm surprised you two didn't wake up the whole house." Hermione whispered.

Hermione had been staying at the Burrow since her parents were still somewhere in Australia and no one had been able to locate them yet. Kingsley Shacklebolt, as the new Minister of Magic, had promised Hermione that as soon as he was able, he would assign some Aurors to go looking for them. Hermione was not so much worried that Death Eaters had found her parents, but that, once their memories are restored, they might be angry with Hermione for what she did to them and not want to come back. Ron and Harry had reassured her many times that her parents would understand her actions were only to protect them and that they would want nothing more than to come back and be reunited with their daughter. Hermione would always give a slight smile, eyes starting to fill with tears, and say, "Yes. Yes, you're probably right," before excusing herself and going to the bathroom to wash away the tears that had begun to fall.

"So, what are you two doing up so late?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Just getting some water and a late night snack." Harry replied innocently.

"Right… And the food smeared across both of your faces? Forgot how to eat did we?" Hermione said with a giggle.

"Oh shut it Hermione." Harry shot back, with a grin.

Ginny, feeling a bit left out, said, "Care for a sandwich, Hermione? We promise, none of it will end up on your face."

"Why not, I'm up anyway," Hermione said, pulling up a chair.

Ginny pulled out two more slices of bread while Harry grabbed a couple of towels for he and Ginny to clean their faces with and a glass of water for Hermione. Hermione took over the job of spreading the peanut butter and within a few minutes, the three of them were sitting quietly at the table, eating their sandwiches, and becoming lost in their own thoughts. When they finished, Hermione took everyone's plates and glasses and began washing them. Ginny put up the bread, jelly, and peanut butter and Harry dried the dishes that Hermione had just washed. Then, making sure everything looked the way they had found it, the three of them snuck back upstairs and went to bed.

The next morning, Ron asked Harry, "Did you notice my bedroom smelled like PB&J this morning?"

Harry glanced over at Hermione and Ginny, who were trying to hold back their smiles.

"No," Harry said slowly. "Are you sure weren't dreaming about PB&J?"

Ron threw a confused look at the two girls, who were trying, and failing, to repress their laughter. "Well, I guess I could have been, though if I was dreaming of food, I would be dreaming of something better than PB&J. I mean, that's more of a late night snack than a proper meal."

And at that, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all burst out laughing.

"Oi! What's so funny?" Ron demanded but the three were laughing too hard to hear Ron, much less answer him.

As the laughter finally died down, with Ron sulking in his chair, a snowy white owl flew into the kitchen through the open window with a envelope in its mouth. Harry stared at the owl for a second, his heart beating faster. Could it be, Hedwig, he thought to himself. However, as Harry stared, he realized it was not. This owl was slightly bigger than Hedwig, and the face was not the same. Harry's heart dropped at the realization and began to feel those familiar pangs of grief that tore at him like a knife. Hagrid had offered to get Harry a new owl for his 18th birthday, but Harry had not been ready to replace Hedwig, who had been his faithful companion since he was 11 years old.

"Harry, it's for you." Hermione said, handing Harry the letter.

Harry took the letter and examined it. It was from Professor McGonagall, who had recently been named the new Headmistress at Hogwarts. Surprised, and feeling somewhat nervous, Harry opened the letter and began to read.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ I hope your summer holiday is going well. I need to speak with you about some private matters. If you would kindly inform Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that I will be opening the Floo Network to Hogwarts from their fireplace tomorrow morning at 9am. You will be provided breakfast here and, please, bring all of your books on Defense Against the Dark Arts that you have in your possession. Bring whatever books on the subject Miss Granger may have as well. _

_ See you at 9am sharp._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
>Headmistress<br>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry read the letter two more times, confused as to what Professor McGonagall could possibly want to speak with him about and why she would want him to bring all of his and Hermione's books on Defense Against the Dark Arts. Was there another dark wizard rising? Was she expecting Harry to lead the way? The look of fear that went across his face did not go unnoticed by his friends, who had been watching him closely.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Yeah, mate. You look like you just saw Voldemort's ghost." Ron said.

Ginny placed her hand on Harry's arm and read the letter out loud as Harry tried to find his voice. When Ginny finished reading, they sat in stunned silence.

"Why, why would McGonagall want our books on Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked, clearly just as confused as Harry.

"I… I don't know." Harry muttered. "I guess I'll find out tomorrow," he said, choosing not to share the questions that brought the look of fear that concerned his friends. "Are our books still in your beaded bag, Hermione?"

"Oh, yes, they are. I hadn't thought of taking them out since, well, you know." Hermione said. It was still hard for them to reference the Battle of Hogwarts. Though they rejoiced at the death of Voldemort, the pain of those they lost was still fresh. "Come on, Harry, let's go get those books and pack them in your rucksack so you're ready for tomorrow."

Harry nodded, got up, and followed Hermione up the stairs to Bill's old room, where Hermione was staying. Rummaging through her truck, Hermione pulled out the familiar beaded bag that had been a saving grace for them over the past year. Pulling out his wand, Harry pointed it at the bag and said, "Accio books," before Hermione could tell him to stop. Suddenly, dozens of books soared out of the bag and on top of Harry. Harry toppled to the floor, his arms held over his face, and was soon buried under what felt like hundreds of books.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I forgot how many books I packed! Are you okay?" Hermione said, as she frantically tried to pull Harry out form underneath the pile.

Laughing, Harry said, "I'm okay. I should have known better than to use a summoning charm, or at the very least, I should have been more specific about what books I wanted."

Once Harry was on his feet again, he and Hermione started sorting through the books. After 20 minutes of sorting, stacking, and packing into his ruckstack, Harry had 10 Defense Against the Dark Arts books to take with him.

"Blimey, I didn't realize we had so many," Harry pondered aloud.

"Well, I had ordered some of them shortly after school got out 6th year, though I guess we didn't end up using them as much as I thought we were going to," Hermione explained.

Harry smiled, "Hey, at least I'll have an impressive showing of books for whatever it is McGonagall wants to talk to me about."

Hermione sat down and began to put the other books back into the beaded bag. "Harry, what are you afraid of?"

Harry had not been expecting such a question. "What… What do you mean, Hermione?"

"When you read the letter, I saw the fear in your face. After all we've been through, Harry, I know when you're afraid."

"Oh…" Harry said, unsure if he should tell Hermione his fears. "I… Well…" Sighing and running his hand through his hair he said, "When I saw that McGonagall wanted me to bring all of my Defense Against the Dark Arts book, I thought… I thought that maybe there's another dark wizard coming and McGonagall was going to ask me to lead the fight… or something like that…" Harry's voiced trailed off and he began to fidget with this hands. "It's not that I wouldn't want to help," Harry quickly said. "I just… I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of losing people I love… I… I don't know that I can do it again."

Harry fell silent as he fought back the tears that were beginning to form. Looking down, he grabbed another book and began to place it into the beaded bag. Hermione stared at Harry, unsure of what to say. Her heart broke for her best friend, who had suffered so much over the years. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but okay seemed like such a pathetic term. How would things ever be okay after they had all lost so much? Is okay even possible? Still, Hermione wasn't going to just let Harry be alone with his fears, his pain. Getting up from the bed she had been sitting on, Hermione went over to Harry, put an arm around him, and laid her head on his shoulders.

Surprising both of them, Harry began to cry. It was the first time he had cried since Dobby had died. Though Harry had attended many funerals, including ones for Tonks, Remus, and Fred, he had not cried at them. He wasn't sure why because he had always felt that typical tightening of the throat and burning of the eyes. Yet, no tears ever fell. Why am I crying, he thought to himself. Suddenly, Harry felt a warm wetness on his neck. Hermione was crying as well. Twisting sideways, Harry pulled her into a hug and together they sat for a few minutes, silently crying into the shoulder of the other. It seemed as those all of the pain, the loss, and the fear of the last year, last few years, was held in each tear that fell. When they finally pulled away from each other, they both felt as though an invisible weight had been lifted. Wiping the last few tears from their faces, they smiled at each other.

Sheepishly, Harry said, "Thanks, Hermione."

"Anytime, Harry. Sorry for crying the Thames on your shoulder," Hermione replied, her cheeks red from crying and slight embarrassment.

Chuckling, Harry gave Hermione a quick hug. Mrs. Weasley shouted from downstairs announcing that breakfast was ready. Harry helped Hermione up from the floor and together they headed to the kitchen. As Harry sat down next to Ginny and Hermione next to Ron, they both were silently wondering what exactly their moment upstairs meant.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: This is my first time trying to write fanfiction so I appreciate any comments or suggestions, as long as they are given respectfully. Enjoy! :D<em>


	2. The Meeting with McGonagall

**Chapter Two: The Meeting with McGonagall**

Harry woke up early the next day, got dressed, and tried to smooth out his hair so that it wasn't sticking up in quite so many places. Finally giving up on trying to tame the mess of hair on his head, he went outside. Grabbing his Firebolt, a replacement he bought a month ago after losing the one Sirius had given him when he and Hagrid were attacked the night he left the Dursley's for good, he took off for a ride to calm his nerves. Thirty minutes later, he saw Ron emerge from the house and shout at him.

"Oi, Harry! It's almost time for you to see McGonagall!"

After landing, Harry put his Firebolt back in the shed, and went inside. The others were already seated at the table, getting ready to eat breakfast. Hermione had brought down Harry's rucksack that he had left in her room the day before, and had put it in the chair next to hers. Harry walked over and picked up the rucksack, thanking Hermione for remembering it. Hermione smiled and wished Harry good luck while holding on to his hand, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Harry or Ginny. With a twinge of jealously in her heart, Ginny got up from her chair and went over to where Harry was standing.

"Good luck, Harry. I'm sure everything will be fine," Ginny said to her boyfriend, before giving him a long kiss, that made Hermione look away, slightly blushing.

"Achem," Mrs. Weasley coughed.

Harry and Ginny broke apart, both of their faces as red as the strawberry jam on Ron's toast.

"Right then. Harry dear, its two minutes until 9, best be going. You know how Professor McGonagall is about being on time," Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry nodded and headed over to the fireplace. Stepping inside, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, threw it down and shouted, "McGonagall's Office."

With a brilliant flash of green light, Harry remembered to pull his elbows in and was suddenly glad he had not eaten breakfast yet as he was spun and pushed and pulled. In an instant, he stumbled out of the fireplace in what was once Albus Dumbledore's office. When the room finally stopped spinning, Harry looked around and was hit, once again, with waves of grief. It was obvious that McGonagall had moved some things around, added some new books, but the familiar desk was still there, as well as the pensive. Fawkes was also there, sitting on his perch, looking as beautiful and magnificent as ever. Professor McGonagall, however, was no where to be seen.

Harry pulled out the gold pocketwatch that Mrs. Weasley had given him on his 17th birthday but before he could open it, the door to the office was opened and Professor McGonagall walked in.

"Mr. Potter, glad to see you managed to be on time. Perhaps, we can make that a habit when classes being," McGonagall said with a shadow of a smile.

"I'll try, Professor," Harry replied, as his stomach suddenly growled. "Oh, sorry Professor," Harry said, grabbing his stomach as though holding it would mute the grumbles from within.

"Oh dear, I forgot I told you breakfast would be provided. Hold on, Potter," said McGonagall as she called for one of the Hogwarts house-elves. A particularly large, wrinkly house-elf immediately appeared in the room with a small crack. "Please bring some breakfast for Mr. Potter away." The house-elf bowed low and disappeared with another small crack. Turning to a table in the corner that was stacked high with books on Transfiguration, McGonagall waved her wand and the books immediately jumped to the floor and the table shot to the middle of the room, with the two chairs following. "Have a seat, Potter," McGonagall said, motioning to the chair closest to him.

Harry put his rucksack on the floor and sat down. McGonagall took the seat opposite him. Before he could ask her why she asked to meet with him, food suddenly appeared on the table, similar to meals in the Great Hall.

"We'll get down to business in a moment. Please, eat," McGonagall said, reaching forward and grabbing a piece of toast.

Harry hesitated a moment, then, filled his plate with toast, eggs, and bacon. While he ate, McGonagall made some small talk, asking how things were at the Burrow, if Hermione's parents had been found, and so on. Harry answered as best he could between bites. He wanted to finish eating as quickly as possible, so McGonagall could tell him what this meeting was about but he didn't want to appear to be rushing. McGonagall, however, could tell Harry was anxious and decided to ease his fears.

"Harry," she said, shocking Harry, who had never heard her say his first name, at least not without saying his last as well, "I promise, you have nothing to worry about, my hope is that this meeting with be a good one, for you and the school."

Still unsure of what exactly this meeting was going to be about, but feeling the knots in his stomach begin to untighten, Harry slowed down his eating and enjoyed the rest of his breakfast. After finishing his last bit of toast, Harry pushed his plate forward and thanked Professor McGonagall for the meal. With a small nod, and what appeared to be a twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth, McGonagall gave her wand a small flick and the table was cleared. Harry, taking this as a cue that the real meeting was about to begin, picked up his rucksack and began to place the books he had brought on the table. McGonagall reached forward and began looking at the books one by one, nodding her head, and muttering to herself softly. After she had looked at every book, she looked up at Harry, who had been watching her closely.

"I know my letter must have come as a bit of a surprise," McGonagall began. "And based on how quickly you were trying to eat your food, I am guessing you were assuming the worst. Though I must say, I can't blame you, considering the books I asked you to bring."

"You see, Harry," Harry was again shocked to hear her say his first name, "as Headmistress I am not in charge of hiring faculty for the upcoming school year, which, as you can guess, is not an easy task in wake of everything that has happened. Though the school has been fully repaired and all of the protective enchantments are back up and working properly, it is difficult to find teachers who are willing to come and fill our openings. Luckily, Professor Slughorn has agreed to stay on for another year as Potions Master and the head of Slytherian House. However, we are still lacking a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. That is where you come in."

Harry, more confused than ever, asked, "Professor, I'm afraid I don't understand. What does not having a teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts have to do with me?"

"Well, as you know, we're asking having all students repeat their previous year, for obvious reasons. So we're about to have a very large first year class, the largest ever, and our other years will be around their normal size, since all of the muggle-borns and others who went into hiding will, we hope anyway, be back," McGonagall said, though Harry was still not sure what any of this had to do with him. "I reached out to Kingsley about possibly having an Auror teach here, if just for a year, but there are still Death Eaters at large, not to mention a lot of work that must be done both here in the wizarding world and in the muggle world. So Kingsley, regretfully, could not oblige my request."

Harry's thoughts drifted to Lupin. If he and Tonks had not died, they would have made excellent Defense Against the Dark Art instructors. His heart felt weighed down once again, as he thought about Tonks, Lupin and Teddy, Harry's godchild, who was currently living with Tonk's parents. Harry wondered if he would ever be able to remember his lost friends without feeling so much pain and sorrow.

"Potter? Potter! Are you listening to anything I am saying?" said McGonagall sternly.

"What? Sorry Professor. Please, continue." Harry said, apologetically.

"As I was saying, I am afraid that I may not be able to find someone to teach before the school year begins, at least not someone who is knowledgeable in the subject or has any experience. So…" McGonagall paused a moment and tried to find the right words to say.

"Harry, would you be interested in teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" McGonagall finally said.

Harry stared at her in disbelief. She wanted him to teach a class? THAT class? His mind was racing, trying to decide what to say. McGonagall sat patiently, letting Harry collect his thoughts. She wished she did not have to ask this of Harry, but there was no one else. She was going to have to teach Transfiguration, as well as complete the duties of Headmistress. McGonagall also knew that there was no one as qualified as Harry. The number of students who managed to get either an Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding on their OWL in Defense Against the Dark Arts during Harry's 5th year was the highest Hogwarts had seen in years and it was almost as high during Harry's 6th year. It did not surprise anyone that every student during those two years who had been a member of Dumbledore's Army achieved Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding on that OWL. Harry had proven himself to be a great teacher, as well as a skilled duelist and honorable leader, in his time at Hogwarts. McGonagall knew that no one more than Harry deserved at one year to just be a normal student but, just because Voldemort was dead did not mean there were not still evil witches and wizards in the world. As Kingsley had reminded McGonagall, there were still Death Eater's at large who would like nothing more than to be the one to kill Harry Potter or anyone associated with him.

"Professor," Harry said slowly, "how can I be a student and a teacher?"

McGonagall allowed herself a rare smile, "You will only be taking the classes you need to qualify as an Auror and, after speaking with Kingsley, you will be exempt from some classes based on your level of experience in the real world. I will also provide you with a time-turner, should you need it, to help have time to do your studies and lesson planning. Also, you will have some help teaching the 1st , 2nd, and 3rd year classes."

"What kind of help?" Harry asked.

"If you agree to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I was going to ask Miss Granger if she would be willing to help you teach the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd years, as well as help you with lesson plans for the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th years, though you will be the only one teaching those years."

Harry sat, thinking. Professor Potter. It did have a nice ring to it but teaching and taking classes? Not to mention the fact that Harry wanted to get back into Quidditch and help Griffindor win the Quiddich Cup. Then again, with the time-turner, it might be possible to do all three. As Harry continued thinking, Professor McGonagall got up quietly and walked over to her desk to pick up a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. She sat back down and began to write something on the parchment. When she finished, she folded it and pushed it towards Harry.

"I can see you are taking your time making a decision," she said softly, "which is good and shows a sign of great maturity. I also know you're going to want to discuss this with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley." Nodding to the parchment in front of Harry, she said, "This is everything you will receive as a teacher at Hogwarts – salary, office, etc. Take it with you, as well as your books, and think about it. Plan on coming back here at this time next week, with Miss Granger, and you both can tell me your decisions."

Harry nodded, grabbed the folded bit of parchment and put it and the books back in his bag. Glancing back at McGonagall, he asked, "Professor, why did you have me bring all of my Defense Against the Dark Arts books?"

"I wanted to see what resources you and Miss Granger had at your disposal," she replied, as she put the table back into the corner and placed the books back on it.

Harry put on his rucksack and headed over to the fireplace. Stepping inside, he took another look around the office, this time, his heart did not feel with grief but a sense that maybe, just maybe, things might turn out okay this year. McGonagall bid Harry farewell and held out the bowl full of Floo powder for him. Grasping a handful, he thanked her again for breakfast and told her he will give her offer some serious thought. Then, he threw it down and said, "The Burrow."


	3. The Offer

**Chapter Three: The Offer**

"Blimey, Harry, they want you to teach?" Ron exclaimed after Harry had recounted his meeting with McGonagall to him, Ginny, and Hermione.

"And she wants me to help you teach?" Hermione questioned aloud to no one in particular, still trying to wrap her head around what she had just been told.

Ginny was being oddly silent. She had listened with the same level of eagerness as Ron and Hermione, until Harry reached the part where McGonagall wanted Hermione to help Harry teach the younger students. At that point, she sat back in her char at the kitchen table next to Harry and stared at her hands. Harry, sensing something was wrong with Ginny, said quietly, "Are you okay?" Ron and Hermione were too busy imagining what their final school year would be like with Harry and Hermione as teachers to notice Harry or Ginny.

"Yeah… Fine." Ginny said with little emotion.

Harry not convinced by her response but not wanting to push, took a hold of her hand and gave it a small squeeze. "What do you think about this, Ginny? Should I do it?"

Ginny perked up at the Harry asking for her opinion, "It's quite an honor, Harry. And… And no one is more qualified than you, I think…" She paused. She wasn't sure what to tell Harry. He would make a great Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher but for some reason, she was not comfortable thinking about Harry and Hermione teaching together. Ginny's mind flashed images of Harry and Hermione alone in his office, working on lesson plans late into the night, becoming close, and…

"Ginny? Well, do I think I should do it?" Harry interrupted Ginny's jealous thoughts.

"I… You should do what you want." Ginny said, sharp and short.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged concerned glances. Ginny, sensing she was about to be asked once again what was wrong, quickly excused herself and left the table.

"What's up with her?" Ron asked. "Harry, what did you do?"

"What? I didn't do anything!" Harry said. "She seemed fine until I started talking about McGonagall's offer."

"I bet she's afraid that Harry is going to be so busy between being in class and teaching class that they won't have any time together," Hermione said. "Can you blame her?" she said to Harry. "You were apart for almost a year, she went months wondering whether you were even alive, and now when you can finally be together, you've been asked to teach."

"So, should I turn down McGonagall's offer?" Harry asked, now even more unsure of what to do.

They were all silent for a moment. Then, Ron said, "Didn't you say McGonagall gave you a piece of parchment with all the perks of the job?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry reached into his rucksack and pulled out the folded parchment McGonagall had given him earlier. Unfolding it, he read aloud.

_200 galleons a month + room & board_

_ Office on the second floor_

_ Classroom on the first floor_

_ A month paid vacation in summer_

_Right to administer detention and award House points (only during your class periods & fairly, Mr. Potter)_

_My undying gratitude and promise to help you anyway I can_

Harry's heart warmed at the last line. He knew that McGonagall would never force him to take the position and that she probably did not want to ask him. Running his hands through the hair he tried to hard to flatten earlier that day, he let out a long sigh. Looking at his two best friends, he thought about how not two days ago he dreamed about going back to Hogwarts with them and enjoying a year of school where their greatest adventure would be passing their N.E.W.T.s. After the events of last year, Harry wanted nothing more than one quiet, peaceful year at Hogwarts. Yet, he had to admit, the idea of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts did bring a smile to his face. Harry had greatly enjoyed teaching his classmates during his 5th year for Dumbledore's Army and if he was going to be an Auror, this would allow him plenty of practice and time to prepare for Auror training, which he would begin next year. Looking back down at the parchment, he reread the last line.

Harry thought back to everything McGonagall had done for him over the years. Getting him placed on Griffindor's Quidditch team, buying him his first broom, vowing to help him become an Auror, though she was a stern women, McGonagall clearly cared deeply about Harry. Her scream still echoed in Harry's ears, when she saw what she thought was Harry's dead body at the Battle of Hogwarts. Besides, what would McGonagall do if Harry said no? She had already admitted she had not been able to find anyone and surely she would have only asked him as a last resort.

"I'm going to do it," Harry announced suddenly, making Ron and Hermione jump slightly. "After all," he said with a sly smile, "how often does a 7th year get a chance to be a professor? It certainly has to be more impressive than being 'head boy.'"

"Alright then, mate!" Ron said, slapping Harry on the back. "Hermione, what are you going to do?"

"Well, I guess if Harry can handle classes and teaching, there's no reason I can't," said Hermione. "Besides, Harry's right, this will look more impressive then being head boy or girl. Though I suppose I'll probably need to resign from my prefect duties."

"Oi, we're still prefects?" Ron asked, apparently forgetting he was one.

"Of course, Ronald! Once you're a prefect, you're a prefect until you leave Hogwarts or resign," Hermione answered matter of factly and with a hint of annoyance.

"Right, right," replied Ron, embarrassed.

Before another word could be spoken, Mrs. Weasley came in and shooed them out of the kitchen so she could begin making dinner. Hermione headed upstairs to begin outlining lesson plans. Harry, not quite ready to give up the freedom of his summer holiday, grabbed Ron and led him outside for some Quidditch practice.

It was quite a bit warmer than it had been when Harry had flown this morning, but it was a beautiful day regardless. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky. The fields of tall grass around the Burrow swayed lazily in the wind, the rustling a welcome summer song. As Harry and Ron soared through the air, Harry closed his eyes, letting the warm air flow over his face like a welcome hug from an old friend. Harry had forgotten how much he missed flying on a broom, he had trouble remembering the last time he had flown on one since purchasing his replacement Firebolt. However, no one would have been able to tell Harry had not ridden a broom in over a year. He flew with the grace, speed, and precision that had made him a great Seeker.

After a few circles around the Burrow, Harry flew up to Ginny's window and gave it a quiet knock. Ginny pulled back the curtains and opened the window, smiling once she realized it was Harry.

"Grab your broom. Ron and I are flying over to the orchard for some Quidditch practice," Harry told her.

"Alright, I'll meet you over there," Ginny replied, excited to have a chance to spend time with Harry without Hermione.

As Harry flew towards the orchard, he let his mind linger on his relationship with Ginny. Harry had to admit there was a lot he did not understand about dating. After all, Ginny was only his second girlfriend and his brief relationship with Cho was not exactly ideal, considering the circumstances leading up to that kiss in Room of Requirement after a DA meeting. While Harry felt that he and Ginny were doing much better than he and Cho, there was something odd about it. He was happy with Ginny. He enjoyed their long walks through the orchard behind the Burrow and the late night conversations in the kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed. Harry smiled, and the kissing, well, was more than satisfactory. Perhaps it was the happiness that was odd. Happiness, happiness without fear of death or someone close to him getting hurt, was an unknown concept to Harry. He had spent so many years trying to keep his heart from feeling too much joy. Experience had taught him that happiness and peace were always fleeting and seemed to guarantee that hurt, grief, and agony were soon to follow.

Carefully weaving through the trees of the orchard towards the hidden Quidditch pitch, Harry unconsciously touched his scar. It had not pained him since Voldemort's demise, yet he still felt its burden. Hero of the wizarding world. Mortal enemy of the few remaining Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Killed Voldemort. Master of the Elder Wand. Though Harry used his holly and phoenix feather wand, he technically was still the rightful owner of the Elder Wand. He had intended to put the Elder Wand back into Dumbledore's tomb but Ron and Hermione reminded him that they did not know how many people, especially Death Eaters, knew Voldemort had obtained the Elder Wand. Ron had suggested placing it in Gringott's before realizing that if they could break into Gringott's, it might not be as safe as they had all once thought. So, after much deliberation, and to Harry's dismay, the wand was placed in the mokeskin poach that Hagrid had given him for his 17th birthday, which hung around Harry's neck all the time. Harry hated having the wand so close. It reminded him too much of Dumbledore, whose death he still grieved, and of Voldemort, whose memory he wished he could forever forget. Yet, he knew Ron and Hermione were right in that he was the best person to protect the wand from those who would use the wand for evil and personal gain.

"We have no chance of winning the Quidditch Cup if you fly this slowly, Harry."

Harry looked behind him and saw Ginny approaching.

"Just waiting for you to catch up," he teased. His heart thumped a little harder seeing Ginny's bright red hair waving in the wind and her eyes bright with anticipation for a round of Quidditch.

"Well, in that case," Ginny shouted, "last one to the pitch is a Blibbering Humdinger!"

Laughing, and forgetting about the world's most powerful wand, hidden under his shirt, Harry chased after Ginny. For now, all Harry wanted to do was focus on honing his Quidditch skills with his best friend and his girlfriend. A few hours later, they returned to the Burrow, covered in sweat and a bit sore from being on the brooms for so long. Mrs. Weasley turned around from the stove, pleased to see her children and Harry, who she considered to be her own son, laughing and smiling. As she turned back to the stove, flicking her wand this way and that, putting the final touches on supper, she made a silent wish that this year would be a year of happiness, life, and peace. Unfortunately, there were others who did not share this wish.


	4. The Survivors

**Chapter Four: The Survivors**

Deep in the Black Forest, three hooded figures huddled around a small, smokeless fire in tense silence. Around their necks hung thin chains of silver bearing a small charm, a circle within a triangle, divided by a vertical line. A branch cracked just beyond the light of the fire and instantaneously the three hoods were looking at the direction of the sound. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, thin figure, wrapped in a tattered traveling cloak. The three hooded figures stood, wands drawn. The unknown traveler raised his left arm, showing a scar of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. It was a Dark Mark that, as with the other Death Eaters, had turned into a scar after the death of Voldemort. Putting down his arm, the traveler then reached into the collar of his cloak and pulled out a silver chain with the same charm the three hooded figures wore.

The largest of the hooded figures nodded at the traveler and motioned for him to join them around the fire. The traveler's face shone clearly in the firelight. His eyes, narrow and black as coal, appeared even more menacing against his pale, nearly translucent skin. His nose was small and pointed. Though his thin-lipped mouth remained stoic, his entire body seemed to radiate a powerful, dark, and angry energy. Thin, bony hands pushed the thick brown locks of hair from his eyes, revealing a deep, ugly gash above his left eye and a scar above his right eye that, at first glance, appeared to be a lightning bolt. However, a closer look would reveal it to be more of an elongated S.

"What news do you bring, Nott," growled one of the smaller hooded figures.

"The wind is whispering that Harry Potter has been asked to teach at Hogwarts _and _that he has chosen not to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore's grave," said Theodore Nott, son of one of Voldemort's earliest and most loyal Death Eaters who had perished in the Battle of Hogwarts. Theodore had followed in his father's footsteps, receiving the Dark Mark over the previous summer. After being shooed into the Hogs Head, with the rest of the Slytherian students and the underage students of the other houses, on the night of the battle, Theodore ran back from Hogsmeade to join his father in battle. He managed to survive with the gash and the scar, but the memory of seeing his father crushed under a stone thrown by magic from one of the towers still burned in his mind.

"If Potter has not returned the wand to the tomb, where has he hidden it?" inquired one of the hooded figures suspiciously. "Rumors mean nothing to us and lies will earn you death."

Nott's black eyes glared in controlled fury, "I assure you, I would not waste my breath speaking about that filthy bastard if I did not think it would assist us. McGonagall has asked Potter to teach, whether he has accepted, I do not know. In regards to the wand..." Nott paused, looking at each figure one by one. "The wand is in Potter's possession. He does not trust Gringotts to keep it safe, nor any other witch or wizard."

"So he is using the wand?" the largest of the figures said, a slight hint of worry in his voice.

"Did I say he was using the wand?" Nott asked, clearly annoyed. "He is using the holly and phoenix feather wand. The Elder Wand, he is merely safeguarding."

"Watch your tone boy," snapped all three hooded figures at once. "We will not tolerate disrespect from someone so young and weak."

And at that, Nott jumped to his feet, reaching into his cloak for his wand. Before he could pull it out, the three hooded figures had drawn their ones and together shouted, "_Incarcerous!"_

Thick ropes soared out of the three outstretched wands and wrapped tightly around Nott, forcing him to the ground with a heavy thud. One of the ropes had managed to cover Nott's mouth so he could only grunt and stare enraged at his assailants.

"Eventually, you will learn, boy, that if you want to continue to survive, you will learn to listen. We are among the last free Death Eaters, besides you. We have seen blood, death, and glory far beyond what you saw at Hogwarts. Our power and skill, _clearly_, surpasses yours. If you wish to avenge your father's death and destroy Potter and his feeble friends, you will do as we tell you. Once we have the cloak, the stone, and the wand, nothing can stop us from fulfilling the Dark Lord's plan," said the largest figure, with his back to Nott.

Nott, who had realized struggling against the magical ropes was a lost cause, lay still. Sighing, he gazed upward at the few stars that were visible through the canopy of the trees. He mentally kicked himself for letting his anger get the best of him once again. He knew the three figures, whose names and faces had yet to be revealed to him, were far stronger than he. As Nott lay there, wondering when he would be released from his bonds, the three hooded figures sat back down around the smokeless fire that had begun to wane. Nott, taking their movement as a sign he would not be released for a bit, let his thoughts drift to Potter. Immediately, his heart filled with a bitter, hot rage that constricted his muscles and made his bound hands shake.

Potter was the reason the Dark Lord was gone. Potter was the reason he had to live in these god-forsaken woods. Potter was the reason he was always looking over his shoulder, waiting for the day an Auror appears to take him to Azkaban.

Potter was the reason his father was dead.

Nott, who had always been a bit of a loner, was now truly alone. His mother had died quite a while ago and his father, who never re-married, had raised him. He could still remember his father's eyes billowing with pride, when he received the Dark Mark and vowed his eternal allegiance to the Dark Lord. Throughout the school year, his father sent him letters, updating him on the progress in taking control of the Ministry of Magic, identifying and "taking care of" the muggle-borns and blood traitors. His father always ended his letters reminding him that he was making his mother very proud and that a better son could not be asked for.

His heart swelled with hatred again. Potter must and will pay. Rage engulfed him. Still bound by the ropes the hooded figures had sent upon him, his whole body began to shake.

"Quit your struggling. We'll let you go once you've calmed down," the smallest of the figures said, without looking.

Nott's mind could think of nothing but torturing Harry Potter, making him feel every ounce of pain that Nott has felt since seeing his father's crushed, lifeless body. His breathing quickened. His body began to shake more violently. He no longer saw the midnight sky or the forest, only brilliant flashes of red as pure, hot wrath coursed through his veins.

Sensing a build-up of magical power, the three hooded figures turned towards Nott. They barely had time to shield their hidden faces, when a burst of black energy exploded from Nott's body, breaking the binding ropes and sending the three figures flying 50 feet. Nott stood, breathing heavily, fists clenched so tightly blood was beginning to ooze slowly through his fingers. The three figures stood and watched in amazement at the magical power radiating from Nott. Never before had they seen anything like this, not even from the Dark Lord.

After a few minutes, Nott's breathing slowed and he regained control of himself. When he finally unclenched his fists, the three figures walked toward him, cautiously. Nott, not fully sure what had just happened, stared at his bleeding hands.

"It appears," the largest figure said, "that we may have underestimated your power."

Nott looked up and gaped at the 20 foot circle of charred ground around him, even the trees that had been 10 feet behind him were gone, small dark circles the only sign of where they had been.

"Wha-What happened?" Nott asked, eventually finding his voice. Even though he could not see their faces, he could have sworn they were smiling at him.

"Proof that you have the power to beat Harry Potter and rule the wizarding world."


	5. The Return to Hogwarts

**Chapter Five: The Return to Hogwarts**

It was times like these that Harry wished he had not been the one to save the world and bring down the darkest wizard of all time. As soon as he had stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, dozens of people flocked to him, grabbing at his hands, clothes, and hair shouting, "Harry! It's Harry Potter! The Boy Who Beat You-Know-Who!" The entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, Luna, and Neville, had to surround Harry like a protective shield, in order to guarantee he would be able to get on the train before it left the station.

Finding an empty compartment, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville sat down and slid the door shut. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, until a hoard of first and second year students appeared, faces pressed against the glass, giggling with childish excitement. Harry shook his head, while Ron rolled his eyes, and Hermione pulled the shades down.

"Better get used to it, mate," Ron said sympathetically.

"Yes, I imagine it will not be much better once they realize you are their professor," Luna added.

"Oh no," Harry moaned, "I didn't thought about that," putting his head in hands.

Harry had spent the last four weeks with Hermione, writing lesson plans, deciding on homework assignments and appropriate material for each of the years. McGonagall had barely been able to keep a straight face when Harry and Hermione agreed to teach. Harry had a feeling she knew he would accept because she handed him a very detailed, and very full, schedule the moment he said yes.

Harry would be taking three classes as a student: Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration. Technically, Harry needed five N.E.W.T.s with Exceeds Expectations to qualify for Auror training but Kingsley and Hestia Jones, recently appointed Head of the Aurors, agreed that as long as Harry got the required N.E.W.T. level in those three subjects, he would qualify for training. McGonagall offered to do private lessons with Harry in Transfiguration in the evening once a week so that he would have extra time to practice Quidditch, since he decided against using a time-turner, thinking back to how frazzled Hermione was during their third year. Harry had a feeling that McGonagall also wanted Gryffindor to be the house that wins the Quidditch Cup, even though she was no longer Head of Gryffindor House since she became Headmistress.

Harry's class load as a teacher was a bit more daunting. He would be teaching seven classes total. Hermione would be co-teaching with him for three, and, since McGonagall decided to add an eighth class to accommodate the increased number of first year students, Hermione would be teaching one of the first year classes on her own. When Hermione realized this, she spent four hours writing and re-writing the lesson plan for the first day of class. For being the brightest witch of her age, Hermione was dreadfully insecure about her ability to teach. Ron spent more than one occasion in Hermione's room, telling her over and over again how brilliant she was and that she would make a great teacher, as Hermione cried that all of her students would hate her.

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll be able to manage them together," Hermione said, placing a hand on his knee, quickly removing it when she saw Ginny's annoyed expression. Ginny was not pleased with the amount of time Harry and Hermione had been spending together over the last month. Deep down, Ginny loved Hermione like the sister she never had, but she couldn't deny the pangs of jealously she felt every time she saw Harry and Hermione with their heads together, scribbling down lesson plans on parchment, laughing, and becoming even closer friends. Ron, apparently, was blissfully oblivious to the situation, or had a greater trust in his relationship with Hermione than Ginny had with Harry.

"Besides, Harry," Neville chimed in, "Most of the people who will be in the 6th and 7th year classes will be people who were in Dumbledore's Army! So, those classes should be a breeze to teach."

"I suppose you're right, Neville," Harry admitted, suddenly feeling less anxious.

Ginny placed her arm in Harry's and leaned her head on his shoulder. Harry's cheeks become red with embarrassment.

"What you should be worrying about, is when we're going to have time together," Ginny said, hugging his arm.

An awkward silence fell on the compartment. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, nodded, and said they were going to go and say hello to the other Gryffindors in the next car. Neville and Luna followed. Alone in the compartment, shades drawn, Ginny kissed Harry lightly on the cheek. Harry turned to face her.

"You're not happy that I took McGonagall's offer, are you?" Harry said abruptly.

"I-Well-It's ju-" Ginny struggled to find the right words to say. She didn't want to hurt Harry's feelings but she could already see the hurt in his eyes when she didn't give him a clear answer.

Taking hold of his hand, she said, "I am happy for you, Harry. It's obvious you're happy about it and that's what matters. I guess I am just a little jealous that it feels like everyone at Hogwarts will be spending more time with you than me, your girlfriend."

Harry was not surprised by Ginny's answer. The tension had been building between them since he and Hermione returned from McGonagall's office, announcing that they were officially Hogwart's professors.

"Ginny, I will make sure that we will have time to be together, alone," he promised, kissing her on the forehead. "It will be difficult in the beginning, while I get used to the schedule and we have the first Qudditch match of the season to prepare for, but you are, and always will be, my first priority."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, reassured that Harry still cared about her. Her jealous feelings towards Hermione immediately began to fade away as Harry leaned in and kissed her deeply on the lips.

When the train arrived at Hogwarts, Harry prepared himself for a new onslaught of gawkers and overly excited children. Luckily, the awe of seeing Hogwarts in the distance proved to be an effective distraction while Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville quickly and quietly climbed into one of the carriages. Not surprising to Harry, he heard many of the older students shout in surprise at seeing the thestrals. It seemed that nearly every 7th year and a good number of the 5th and 6th years had witnessed someone die in the last year. Far too many, Harry thought, far too many.

When they reached the castle, Harry stared in awe. Hogwarts looked like it always had. You would never have known the biggest battle of the last century had taken place here just 4 months ago. As Harry and the others walked towards the Great Hall, memories flashed before his eyes. Running down the corridors towards the Room of Hidden Things. Saving Malfoy from the Fiendfyre, which destroyed the Diadim of Rowena Ravenclaw. Fred dying in the explosion…

Tears began to form in Harry's eyes, letting the others get ahead of him, he stopped behind a pillar, took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Blimey, countless funerals and no tears. Walk ten feet into Hogwarts and I'm already blubbering," he muttered to himself.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice called out for him.

"Harry, where are you?"

Putting his glasses back on, Harry stepped out from behind the pillar.

"Here, Hermione. Had to - had to tie my shoes," Harry sputtered, ashamed to admit he had been crying.

Hermione gave him a doubtful look. She could tell by his eyes that he had been crying but she knew he was probably embarrassed about it, so she kept quiet.

"Come on, you don't want to miss the Feast," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the Great Hall, where everyone was already seated.

As they drew near, Harry stopped abruptly, breathing hard.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong? Harry!" Hermione said to the non-responsive Harry.

Harry could barely hear Hermione. Looking toward the entrance of the Great Hall, Harry only saw broken stones, bodies everywhere, and he and Voldemort circling each other in the center of the Great Hall as the sun began to rise.

"Avade Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Harry!"

Harry held the side of his face where Hermione had just slapped him, with tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry, but you weren't answering me and, and you were hyperventilating an-and, Harry I'm so sorry!"

Harry, now understanding what had happened, pulled Hermione into a hug.

"Hermione, no, it's okay. Thank you, I-I was remembering that last duel… with Voldemort… I guess returning to Hogwarts isn't going to be as easy as I thought," Harry whispered, afraid at how weak he felt.

Hermione gave Harry a small squeeze and lifted her head.

"Harry, you don't have to go in there if you're not ready. Everyone would understand. I'm sure you're not the only one who is having a hard time seeing the Great Hall."

Harry felt another hand on his back. Turning around, he saw Ginny, who also had tears in her eyes. Embracing, Harry felt her body begin to tremble. Looking up, Harry saw Ron and Hermione also holding each other. Ron was silently crying as Hermione rubbed her hand along his back and whispered gently into his ear. Being in the Great Hall had brought back memories of Fred's body lying on the table, along with Lupin, Tonks, and so many others. As the four of them stood there, letting out their grief, Professor McGonagall emerged from the Great Hall.

By the look on her face, she was about to reprimand them for loitering in the hallway and delaying the start of the feast, as she needed to introduce Harry and Hermione as the ones teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, upon seeing the four tear-stained faces of her most beloved students, she stepped forward and pulled them all into one great hug. Caught off guard by this unusual, though not unwelcome, display of affection from McGonagall, they all quickly returned the hug.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry began but McGonagall cut him off.

"It is perfectly alright, Potter. I should have known that returning to Hogwarts might be a bit of an emotional strain on some of the students, especially you four."

"Professor, I know you need to introduce Hermione and I with the other new teachers but I," Harry paused, struggling to admit out loud that he simply couldn't step foot into the Great Hall. Not yet.

McGonagall, perceiving Potter's discomfort, said, "You four are welcome to head up to the Gryffindor Tower. I will make sure there is food available for you in the Common Room. Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, I will send for you after the Feast so we can discuss your first day of class."

"Thank you, Professor," they all replied, relieved to know they wouldn't have to face their fears and grief just yet.

"Off you go, before I start deducting points," she said sternly, though Harry thought that might have been her attempt at a joke.

Walking the familiar route from the Great Hall to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry did his best to stay composed as more memories of the battle raced through his mind. Ginny, lost in her own thoughts on Fred, did not notice the pained expressions that would flicker across Harry's face. Hermione, however, did. As they walked, she glanced at Harry so many times she nearly walked into the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked, confused as to why there were students already trying to enter the tower.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, "McGonagall didn't tell us the password."

"Could you please let us in? Surely you know who we are after all these years?" Ginny pleaded, hungry and annoyed.

"You may think you are better than the other students, but I make no exce-"

Harry pushed himself in front of Ron and Ginny.

"Fat Lady, we don't think we're better than the other students but we are tired and hungry. Professor McGonagall sent us up here to eat our meal in the Common Room, without telling us the password. I guess she assumed you would let us in without it. So, unless you want to explain to the Headmistress why four students were left outside of their dormitory, without food, I suggest you let us in."

Harry was not sure why he spoke so harshly or with such authority but he didn't much care once the Fat Lady gave an exasperated huff and swung open. After climbing inside the Common Room, their spirits began to lift as they saw a beautiful, hot meal and cold goblets of pumpkin juice waiting for them. They eagerly ate and with every mouthful of delicious food, the worry and fear that had plagued them early melted away. When they had eaten their fill, they settled down in front of the fireplace, Harry and Ginny lying on the couch, Ron and Hermione on the floor, and watched the fire burn. Perhaps the return to Hogwarts won't be so hard after all.


	6. The First Day

**Chapter Six: The First Day**

The sun was barely making its way through the windows of the Gryffindor boy's dormitory when Harry opened his eyes. Despite waking up a good deal earlier than he intended, Harry felt well rested. After meeting with McGonagall last night, his anxiety about his first day as a Hogwarts professor was greatly reduced, though the butterflies in his stomach were still making themselves known. Getting out of bed as quietly as he could, Harry got dressed, put his books, parchment, quill, and ink in his rucksack, and slipped down to the Common Room. It was still a few hours before breakfast and his first class was scheduled to begin at 9am. Deciding he wanted a chance to walk around the castle before the rest of Hogwarts awoke, Harry shouldered his rucksack and pushed the Fat Lady's portrait open as gently as possible. The Fat Lady made some soft unintelligible sounds, but stayed asleep. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he headed down the stairs.

Harry knew that if he was going to make it through this year, he was going to have to confront the memories that haunted him, straight on. After all, what are a few bad memories compared to the hell he, Hermione, and Ron went through last year. When Harry reached the corridor that led to the Great Hall, he stopped and pulled the Marauder's Map out from beneath his robes.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry said, touching the parchment with his wand.

Immediately, the familiar map of Hogwarts appeared. It appeared that nearly everyone was still in bed, except McGonagall, who was in her office, and Hermione who was in the Gryffindor Common Room. They had just missed each other. Harry thought she must be looking over their lessons plans for the day's classes for the twentieth time since they arrived at Hogwarts. Harry remembered when he and Hermione had shown McGonagall their lesson plans the night before. McGonagall had stared at them with an expression of disbelief and admiration.

"I must say," she had told them, "I expected you, with Miss Granger's help, to have the first few weeks planned but," holding up the thick folder they had brought her, "I never expected you two to have the entire semester planned… And in this much detail!"

"Are they okay, then?" Hermione asked, insecurely.

"Miss Granger, these are some of the finest lesson plans I have seen in my time at Hogwarts. It is obvious that you and Mr. Potter were very thorough in your preparations and I have no doubt you both will do well," McGonagall told her, the corner of her mouth showing the slightest hint of a smile.

Scanning the map once more to make sure no one was in or near the Great Hall, Harry walked slowly forward and placed his hand on the smooth wood. He, with a bit of reluctance, closed his eyes and let the memories envelop him.

_Dust and dirt billowed like a thick cloud of smoke. Flashes of red and green whizzed through the air as Death Eaters and the soldiers of Hogwarts dueled to the death. The door to the Great Hall was gone, probably blasted apart by a spell or perhaps a boulder thrown by one of the giants. Bits of splintered wood was scattered across the floor, some red with blood. _

Harry opened his eyes and grasping the cast iron handles, pulled open the doors to the Great Hall. The four long rows of tables sat in their normal positions. Empty. Silent. The hall was dark, except for the rays of the early morning sun peeking through the towering windows. Harry grasped his wand tightly, as though he expected at any moment a Death Eater, or worse, Voldemort, to appear. Step by step, Harry headed straight for the center of the room. He imagined the first years who stepped into this hall last night must have held their mouths open in awe, as he once had, at the beauty, strength, and magic of this great room. At that moment, however, Harry saw a different room.

_The windows were broken. The moon, waning in the night sky, was still visible, but barely. You could not walk anywhere without stepping on shards of glass, bits of stone, or splinters of wood. Tables and benches were overturned, blasted, or used as pitiful shields. It was crowded. You not only had to dodge the spells that were being cast at you but the ones being cast at others. Noise. Shouts of fear, names of spells, the bodies hitting the walls or the floor. "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" Bellatrix Lestrange dead by Mrs. Weasley's well-aimed curse. Voldemort's scream. Before Voldemort could avenge Bellatrix's death, he cast the Shield Charm and threw off his invisibility cloak. Cheers and then complete silence. This was it, the end. If he was wrong about who was the true master of the Elder Wand, Harry was going to be seeing Dumbledore sooner than he wanted. It all came down to two spells._

Opening his eyes once again, Harry took in a deep breath and relaxed his grip on his wand. It was over. Voldemort was gone. There was no chance he could ever return. His body had been incinerated and, with the horocruxes destroyed, his soul was gone as well.

Harry sat down on one of the benches and gazed around the room. He was amazed at the repairs that were done to the castle in such a short period of time, considering the state it was in at the end of the battle. At least now he knew that he would be able to eat in here again, as his stomach began to rumble, and the fear and anxiety that had gripped him so tightly before was nearly gone. Harry looked at his watch. Breakfast wouldn't be served for another hour and Harry didn't feel like answering questions as to why he was sitting in the Great Hall alone.

"I haven't seen my office yet," Harry thought to himself. "Guess now is a good a time as any to check it out."

Harry left the Great Hall and closed the doors as quietly as he could. He walked up a short flight of stairs to the first floor and then another to the second, where his office was located. Standing in front of the door, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the key McGonagall had given him. Placing it into the keyhole, he turned it counterclockwise. With a sharp click, the lock moved and Harry pushed the door open. The room was bare, except for two rather large desks with tall-backed chairs, a small side table, and a three waiting-room style chairs. One of the desks was on the wall opposite of Harry, the other to his right, with the side table in the corner between them. The other chairs were haphazardly in the corner to left, closest to the door.

"Better claim one of these desks before Hermione gets here," Harry thought, already picturing the look on Hermione's face and her protests of how they should have decided together who got which desk.

He decided the one directly opposite the door was best. After all, he would be spending more time here than Hermione and he felt better having a clear look at the door. Carelessly tossing his rucksack onto the desk, he sat down in the desk chair. It was sturdy, made of a dark-brown maple. The back, seat, and arms were covered with scarlet leather that had gold buttons along the edges. Harry had no idea what it was padded with but it was the most comfortable chair he had ever sat in. Leaning forward, he pulled his rucksack towards him and began removing the books he had stuffed into it earlier that morning.

_Defense Against the Dark Arts  
>Defensive Magical Theory<br>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
>The Updated Counter-Curse Handbook<br>Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed  
>A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions<br>Jinxes for the Jinxed  
>Practice Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts<br>Curses and Counter-Courses  
>Confronting the Faceless<br>Self-Defensive Spellwork_

Harry stood up and started placing the books on the shelves that lined the wall behind him. Hermione would have more to add to the shelves later from her own collection, not to mention the other dozen or so she bought from Flourish and Blotts. Although Harry and Hermione had only had one required text for each year, they felt it was to best to have as many resources at their disposal as possible. When the last book was on the shelf, Harry sat down again and looked over his weekly schedule.

On Monday's he and Hermione would be teaching one group of first years and then Hermione would teach the next group while Harry went to Potions. After lunch, Harry had a Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the 5th years, then dinner, and Quidditch practice. Tuesday's included a Double with the 2nd years, Double Charms, and Transfiguration after dinner in McGonagall's Office. Wednesday's were Harry's easiest day. He was free all morning, though McGonagall had warned him that he should be using that time for homework, grading papers, or preparing for class. He had a Double with the 3rd years in the afternoon and then Quidditch practice in the evening. On Thursday, Harry had a Double in the morning with the 6th years and a Double in the afternoon with the 4th. His evening, much to Ginny's delight, was free. Well, free in the sense Ginny claimed it as "their night." Finally, on Friday he had the 1st years again, Potions, a Double with the 7th years, and Quidditch practice after dinner.

Just looking at the schedule made Harry feel exhausted. He knew his weekends would be filled with homework, Ginny, Quidditch, tweaking lesson plans with Hermione, and the occasional trip to Hogsmeade. Out in the corridors, Harry could hear students walking towards the Great Hall. He put his schedule back in his pocket, walked into the corridor, locked his office, and followed a group of Ravenclaws down the stairs. Breakfast must have just started being served since most of tables were sparsely populated. Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, which at the moment was only occupied by a few overly-eager first year students, some 5th years, and Hermione, who was reading that morning's Daily Prophet.

"Harry!" Hermione called to him, waving the paper to get his attention. "Over here!"

"Morning, Hermione," Harry said cheerfully, sliding onto the bench opposite her, and filling his plate with eggs, toast, and bacon. "Ready to teach your first class," he teased.

"Oh shut it, Harry," Hermione laughed, hitting him on the arm with the paper. "You know I'm nervous!"

Harry smiled and took a bite of toast. He knew Hermione would be a brilliant teacher, though he could sympathize with her nerves, and he was glad they were teaching the first class together. As he ate and Hermione read, Ron and Ginny appeared, sitting down next to their respective boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Morning, Ron," Hermione said, giving Ron a kiss on the cheek.

"Morin'," Ron grumbled, still half-asleep.

"Ready for your first day, _Professor_ Potter?" Ginny said playfully.

"I think so, _Captain_ Weasley."

After accepting McGonagall's offer, Harry and Ron agreed that Ginny should take over as captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry was actually a bit relieved to have that responsibility taken from him. He was ready to step aside from the leadership roles everyone always placed upon him and be a normal student. Well, as normal a student as one can be when they are also a teacher and Harry Potter.

"Blimey, I didn't realize there were so few Slytherians this year," exclaimed Ron, who was a starting to wake up and with his mouth stuffed with food.

Turning around, Harry glanced over at the Slytherian table. It was maybe a fourth full, mostly with younger students who appeared much friendly than the Slytherians Harry had seen come through that house over the years. Checking around the Great Hall, Harry asked, "Are there any 6th or 7th years?"

"I recognize a couple of 6th years," Ginny said.

"I don't see a single 7th year," Hermione observed.

"Not that surprising though, right? I mean most of them were from Death Eater families. They'd have to be insane to try and come back to Hogwarts after last year," Ron commented.

"I wonder whatever happened to the Malfoys," Hermione said, remembering them huddled together in the corner of the Great Hall after the battle.

"Mum told me they sent Draco's dad to Azkaban. Supposedly, he and Narcissa moved out the country," Ginny answered.

"Good riddance, I say. I'd love my final year to be free of Malfoy's smug face," Ron said while shoveling eggs into his mouth.

"Good grief, Ron, chew your food!" Hermione admonished, with a look disgust on her face. "Harry, we should probably head out, don't you think?"

Glancing at his watch, Harry nodded. Giving Ginny a quick kiss and a hug, he got up from the table and walked with Hermione towards their classroom on the first floor. Harry wondered if McGonagall said something during the Feast yesterday about how they should treat him. Many of the students who had gathered around his compartment on the train, desperate for a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter, now settled for simply staring from a distance and whispering excitedly to their friends. Harry and Hermione had agreed that they would not answer any questions regarding their travels last year or Harry's duel with Voldemort except with the 7th years. Harry knew many who would be in the class were thinking of becoming Aurors or Hit Wizards, the equivalent of a Muggle S.W.A.T team, and it would benefit in them in the long run to know some of the details.

Harry and Hermione walked into the classroom and went to the front. Hermione pulled the movable chalkboard to the front and used her wand to set the chalk in motion.

_Defense Against the Dark Arts – Year One  
>Professor Potter and Professor Granger<br>Required Text: Defensive Magical Theory_

_ Assignment Due Fri: 500-word essay on "The Importance of Defensive Magic Today"_

Harry had been the one to suggest assigning the essay, much to Hermione's surprise. He knew that the students, especially the younger ones, inevitably would question why they need to learn any sort of defensive spells with Voldemort dead. At the very least, if what he said didn't sink in, maybe writing it down will force it into their memory.

Just then, the bell rang, and Gryffindor and Slytherian students started filing into the room. Harry and Hermione gave each other a knowing look. They both thought back fondly to their first year at Hogwarts and the excitement, mixed with mild anxiety of that first class. When all of the sits were filled, Harry stepped forward and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Um, good morning. I'm Professor Potter and this is Professor Granger and this," Harry said, "is Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Now, before we go on, is there anyone who does not have the required text?" Hermione asked loudly.

Not seeing any hands raised, Harry said, "Alright then, please turn to page 10 and we'll begin."

Through the rustle of books being pulled from bags and pages being turned, a hand shot up from the back of the class. It was a dark haired, freckled faced boy with black square framed glasses, a rather large nose, and small blue eyes.

"Professor Potter, why do we need to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts class if You-Know-Who is dead?" the boy inquired.

Harry gave an exasperated sigh and ran his hands through his hair, trying to hold in his irritation. Hermione, sensing Harry's frustration, took the lead.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Earc Maclean, Professor," he said in a thick Scottish accent.

"Stand up, please, Mr. Maclean."

"Why?" he asked, crossing his arms, suspicious of these so-called professors who were also students.

Hermione raised one eyebrow and pursed her lips.

"Because I told you to, Mr. Maclean. Question me again and I'll deduct points from your house. Now stand up," she barked.

Earc stood up, ears bright red with embarrassment, as the class broke out in giggles. Harry leaned back against the desk at the front of the classroom and watched with an amused but curious look on his face. He wondered what Hermione was going to do now.

"You want to know why we need this class, Mr. Maclean?" she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "Why we would need to know defensive magic, despite Voldemort being dead?"

She walked towards him, wand raised. Earc took a step back, terror etched across his face. Harry stood up, concerned that Hermione was going to far.

"I'm s-s-sorry, Professor! Please, don't curse me!" Earc sputtered, tears forming in his eyes, as his classmates gasped and Harry reached for his wand, prepared to intervene.

Hermione's expression softened and she lowered her wand. In a low voice, she said to the entire class, "Voldemort may be dead, but evil still exists in the world. It never rests. It never stops. There will be other wizards who will dabble in the Dark Arts and succumb to its power. They may not be as powerful as Voldemort was, but they can still do a lot of harm to you, your family, your friends, and others. Voldemort was not the first and he most certainly will not be the last. That is how evil works. Just because one threat has died, does not mean that another one isn't rising."

Harry, relieved Hermione wasn't going to curse the poor boy, looking straight at Earc and said, "One of the greatest Aurors I have ever known always preached to us, 'Constant Vigilance.' What do you think that means, Mr. Maclean?"

Earc, his ears still bright red, thought for a moment and then said, "I guess it means that we have to always be alert because you never know what may come your way."

Hermione looked back at Harry, smiled, and then turning to Earc said, "Well spoken, Mr. Maclean. 5 points to Gryffindor. You may take your seat."

After that, the rest of the class went fairly smoothly. Harry was surprised at how attentive and respectful the Slytherian students were for the hour. Perhaps they would be the class that would redeem the Slytherian house from its reputation of disrespect, insolence, arrogance, and knack for producing dark witches and wizards. By the end of class, the first years seemed excited to begin working on their essays, even Earc Maclean whose ears had finally returned to their normal color.

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly. Hermione's class of first years went by without any major incident and she was pleased to overhear some of the first years at lunch telling the second years how great Professor Granger was. Harry's potions class went surprisingly well, considering he was using the same, non-marked textbook as everyone else. Professor Slughorn was a bit awkward around Harry, clumsily slapping him on the back and making loud proclamations about how glad he was to see one of his favorite students. Harry spent most of his class period with the 5th years explaining about the O.W.L. and what to expect.

By dinner, Harry was exhausted but happy. He sat with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and filled them in on how his class had gone. When he had eaten, he decided to go up to his dormitory and take a quick nap. Telling Ginny and Ron he would see them on the Quidditch pitch later for practice, Harry left the Great Hall and went upstairs. Crawling into his four poster bed, he laid down and drifted off to sleep, happy that his first day was over.


	7. The Dark Mark Returns

**Chapter Six: The Dark Mark Returns **

"Harry! Harry!"

Ron ran through the Great Hall, knocking over a few Ravenclaw 3rd years and causing some Hufflepuffs to jump onto a bench to avoid being crushed by Ron's tall, lanky figure.

"Harry, have you seen the Prophet!" Ron wheezed, out of breath.

Harry looked at Ron with a confused and a bewildered expresion. The morning's owls had not yet come so, to Harry's knowledge, no one at Hogwarts had seen the Prophet yet.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"The mail hasn't come yet, Ron, how could we have seen the Prophet?" Hermione asked, giving him a curious look.

"Oh, right. Well, an owl brought it to our dorm window while I was getting dressed. I think it was meant to be delivered to you, Harry. Bloody thing bit me when I tried to take the paper from it and then it flew over to your bed. Would only play nice when I said I would deliver it to you," Ron explained, holding up his crudely wrapped finger and tossing the paper, stained with a bit of his blood, in front of Harry.

Harry picked up the paper and unfolded it. His eyes froze on the image that covered the front page. It was a village being consumed by a large fire. However, it was not the burning village that made Harry's heart skip a beat. It was the night sky above the village, where the clouds where in the form of a ghostly skull and serpent.

Ginny, who had been sitting next to Harry, leaned over and read the headline out loud.

"Muggle Village Near the Black Forest Attacked by Death Eaters."

Hermione gave a small gasp and Neville, who had been sitting nearby, jerked his head up and shifted closer to them. Harry's hands, which were grasping the paper tightly, began to shake slightly. How could this have happened? Didn't Kingsley have all available Aurors out bringing in Death Eaters? Why would Death Eaters attack a Muggle village? Wouldn't that just bring unwanted attention to them, since they obviously had managed to avoid being caught this long? It did not make any sense to Harry.

Ginny, seeing Harry's hands start to shake, gently took the paper from him and read the rest of the article out loud. The village had a population of 200. Only a few survivors had been found but they said they did not know what had happened. They had lived at the very edge of town. One woman, from a little further in the village, said she had been in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when she heard a loud explosion from the center of the village. When she turned to her window, all she saw was a wall of fire moving rapidly towards her home, consuming everything in its path. She said she managed to run out of her back door before the fire reached her home and left it as nothing more than a pile of ash in a matter of seconds. According to the article, all the homes that were in direct path of this wall of fire became ash. Only the houses and trees at the very edge were spared the instant transformation into ash. They simply caught on fire and slowly burned to the ground. The only detail all of the survivors had the same was seeing a brilliant green flash of light shoot into the sky after the wall of fire had disappeared. Then they saw the clouds take the shape of a skull with a serpent coming from its mouth. The Ministry of Magic sent all available Aurors, members of the Magical Law Enforcement, and Healers to the village. Kingsley was currently meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister about the recent attack.

When Ginny had finished reading, they sat in silence. Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings filled the Great Hall. The morning mail had arrived. Three average-sized brown owls dropped Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's copies of the Daily Prophet in front of them. Once the owls left, gasps could be heard coming from all around the hall from other students who had received a copy of the Daily Prophet. Many turned and stared in Harry's direction. Harry did not notice. He sat there, staring into space, his stomach churning.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"What? Oh. Yeah. I'm fine," said Harry, unconvincingly.

"I wonder why the Death Eaters would attack a Muggle village," Neville said, echoing the thoughts Harry had earlier. "I mean, don't they know that practically everyone in the Ministry is after them? Did the article say how many of them there were?"

"No," Ginny said to Neville, scanning the article again. "No one saw any Death Eaters, just the fire and the Dark Mark. Honestly, if they hadn't cast the Dark Mark, people would have assumed that it was an unfortunate gas explosion."

Harry stayed silent, his mind trying to figure out if the attack was just a group of disgruntled Death Eaters tired of hiding or a sign of a bigger problem. If it was just some disgruntled Death Eaters, the Ministry would be able to handle it. However, if it was something bigger…

"You don't think Voldemort had some plan in place in case he was killed? I mean, when he figured out we were going after the horcruxes, maybe he gave some of his followers instructions. Maybe this attack was a part of some plan that will bring him back," Said Ron.

"Really Ron, Voldemort believed he was invincible, even when all the horcruxes were gone and he was facing Harry in the Great Hall, he still believed he couldn't be defeated," Hermione reasoned.

"It's not related to Voldemort," Harry said quietly. "It can't be. Hermione's right, he thought he was invincible and, even if he had any doubts about that, he had to have known that once the horcruxes were gone, if he was killed there was no way to bring him back."

Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically. She knew this unfortunate news was eating away at him. Everything was supposed to be peaceful and normal, now that Voldemort was dead. There weren't suppose to be Death Eater attacks, at least not with such a large death toll. Watching Harry's face carefully, Hermione could see guilt in his eyes. She wondered, sadly, why Harry continued to blame himself for everything when none of this was his fault. The entire wizarding world should feel guilty for the unimaginable responsibility it placed on his shoulders again and again, for the danger it forced Harry to run in to, and for the losses Harry has suffered.

Word spread quickly around the Great Hall of the attack and the four house tables were all talking about what the attack could mean. Harry, growing tired of the stares and whispers, mumbled he was going to his office to go over his lesson plans and left the Great Hall. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville remained seated and exchanged worried glances as Harry walked away from them.

"I don't think Harry is taking this well," said Ginny worriedly.

"It's Harry, I'm sure he'll be fine. Harry's gone through worse. I mean, what's a rogue Death Eater attack when you've face Lord Voldemort?" said Ron, clearly not tuning into his best friend's anxiety.

Hermione shot Ron a disapproving look and snapped, "Yeah and when we assumed he'd be fine or be able to handle it during our 5th year, he became an angry, depressed prat who kept pushing us away or biting our heads of!" Throwing her legs over the bench, Hermione walked away without another word, leaving Ron with a bewildered look on his face and wondering how many flowers it would take to get Hermione to talk to him again.

Upstairs, Harry slammed his office door shut with such force the bookshelves on the back wall shook, knocking one of his books onto the floor. With a frustrated sigh, Harry walked over to the fallen book and picked it up, running his hand across the cover. It had been a Christmas gift from Sirius during his 5th year. The year Sirius died. Hot tears formed in Harry's eyes and an uncomfortable lump in his throat made it difficult to breathe. He placed the book gently back on the shelf, his fingers lingering a moment on the smooth leather binding. Without the threat of Voldemort to keep his mind preoccupied, Harry was finally beginning to truly grieve the lost of his beloved godfather. Turning around, Harry's eyes widened slightly when he saw Hermione standing there.

"Hermione," Harry greeted with a jerky nod of his head, before sitting down and pretending to be reading over the lesson plan on his desk. "Bit busy at the moment."

"Right, practicing reading upside down I see," Hermione replied curtly.

Harry looked down and noticed the orientation of the piece of parchment he was holding. Embarrassed, he turned it around and kept his head down, hoping Hermione had not seen the tears in his eyes. Strolling behind Harry's desk, Hermione took the parchment from his, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"Harry, something is wrong. Don't deny it. Don't try and be gallant and say you'll be fine. We've been through too much to start hiding things from each other now. Talk to me, please," she said, pleading.

"Hermione, I appreciate the concern but really, it's nothing. Just, just a bit tired. Been practicing a lot. You know, first Quidditch match in a couple of weeks," Harry said weakly.

"Harry."

With another sigh, Harry turned away from her.

"I don't know what to do about this, Hermione. Am I supposed to volunteer to go and find these Death Eaters? Is that what is expected of me because I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived? Or do I just ignore it, pretend it didn't happen and keep acting like everything is normal? But I can't do that can I? You saw the stares and heard the whispers, I'm sure every single class I teach this week will ask me about the damn attacks. Why did they attack that Muggle village? Why cast the Dark Mark? What are they trying to prove? Is it to get back at me? All those questions and I don't have one decent answer to give. No matter how many times I save the world, people end up hurt and the only thing I can keep thinking is, 'Is this my fault?'"

The words tumbled out of Harry's mouth, getting louder and louder, as though a gate had been opened that was impossible to close. A mixture of anger, confusion, and guilt was dripping from every word. Hermione stood silently, letting Harry speak. When he had finished, she placed her hand on his shoulder, and bent down so their faces were level with each other.

"Harry James Potter," she said slowly, emphasizing each word, staring into his eyes, "this is not your fault. Nothing that has ever happened has been your fault. I don't know why the Death Eater's attacked or cast the Dark Mark but I do know this. It is not your responsibility to find out. The only responsibilities you have right now are to teach, learn, and beat the snot out of Slytherian in Quidditch."

Harry let a small laugh. He wasn't sure why Hermione's words were so comforting but they warmed his heart and eased the anger and sadness that had been building inside of him. He thought back to that day at the Burrow when Hermione had held him while he cried. Harry had always struggled to be open about his feelings, even with Ginny, he did not share much regarding the more painful feelings about his life. Yet, with Hermione, it was different. He felt safe sharing with her and it was surprisingly easy, in comparison to the others.

"Harry?"

"Thanks Hermione," Harry said, placing his hand on his shoulder, over her hand. "Don't know what I would do without you."

"Lean on Ron for emotional support?" Hermione suggested and at that, they both started laughing, knowing that Ron wasn't exactly an expert in handling anything involving an emotion beyond the joy of eating.

As their laughter carried out into the corridor, another laugh echoed deep in the Forbidden Forest followed by an agonizing cry.

"I'm going to ask you again, did you see a boy with a lightning scar walking through the woods on the night the Dark Lord died?" Nott demanded, wand pointed at a bound and bleeding centaur.

"N-n-no! Please! I swear! He must have been under an invisibility cloak or used a charm of some sort! Please, have mercy!"

Nott straightened up, his eyes not leaving the centuar. It made sense that Potter would have traveled into the forest under the invisibility cloak that night. However, it did not help him in his search for the resurrection stone that he knew Potter must have left somewhere in the forest. His three, unnamed, ever-hooded companions had questioned Nott's theory about the stone's location.

"I'm telling you, Potter would not have kept the stone on him. Potter's weak, he would have tried to use it keep seeing his dead parents or that blood traitor Sirius Black. The temptation would have been too great for him," he had argued.

"How do you know he ever had the stone? There are no accounts of him having it. I think your hatred of Potter is clouding your judgment," the smallest of the hooded figures countered.

"The stone must have been hidden in the snitch Dumbledore left the boy in his will. Why else would Dumbledore have left him the snitch and the mudblood girl the children's book with the mark of the Deathly Hallows? The Elder Wand was in Dumbledore's possession and he knew Potter owned the cloak. Anyone with half a brain could make the connection. Potter, as much as I hate to admit it, is not a complete dolt. He would have known the Forbidden Forest would be an appropriate place to hide the stone."

The hooded figures, impressed with Nott's confidence and ability to understand the mind of Harry Potter, agreed to accompany him from the Black Forest to the Forbidden Forest. Arriving three days earlier, they came upon a lone centaur, which they quickly captured and began torturing for information. The pleasure that spread throughout Nott every time he cast the Cruciatus Curse on the helpless creature was intoxicating. However, he knew he must be disciplined. His revenge on Harry Potter was his top priority and the centaur would soon be useless if he used the Unforgivable Curse anymore that evening. With a quick flick of his wand, the centaur's mouth was magically closed and Nott walked away, sitting around another smokeless fire with the three hood figures, who had been observing Nott's interrogation.

"So what do you intend to do?" asked the largest figure with a sneer. "Search the entire forest by hand?"

Nott, irritated, stared into the fire, contemplating his next move. The centaur had not been that useful, thus far, other than giving him a general idea of where the Dark Lord had waited for Potter. Still, Potter could have arrived at the site from a number of directions and who knows where he might have hidden the stone. Did he bury? Hide it in a tree? Or did he simply drop it on the ground? From what Nott had gathered about the hallows, the resurrection stone looked like an ordinary stone, except for the mark of the Deathly Hallows carved onto one side. Even if he knew the exact path Potter took through the Forbidden Forest, it would still take an excruciatingly long time to find the stone. Time he did not want to waste scouring the forest's floor. Perhaps it would be more prudent to focus on obtaining the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak.

"I think it may be time to bring Potter into the search for us. If destroying a Muggle village won't draw him out of Hogwarts, maybe paying a visit to someone Potter is more familiar with will catch his attention. The stone can wait. Once I – I mean we – have the Elder Wand, we can focus on getting the stone and the cloak."

The three hood-figures turned to Nott and nodded in agreement, eager to spread some chaos and smell death in the air once again. Nott's single-handed decimation of the Muggle village had convinced them he could take Harry Potter in a duel. The depth of Nott's hatred for Potter gave him an extraordinary magical power unlike anything the three figures had ever seen but had heard. An ancient legend, passed down through families who were deeply seeped in the Dark Arts, spoke of a young dark wizard who would be orphaned by a wizard of the light. The hatred of the wizard of the light would unleash a dark magic within the orphaned wizard. A dark magic so powerful that no wizard, light or dark, would be able to defeat him. Once the orphaned wizard taps into this magic, he would kill the wizard of the light and go on to take control of the wizarding and Muggle world. It appeared that Nott fit the profile of this legendary wizard. They would find out soon enough.


	8. Quidditch

**Chapter Eight: Quidditch**

The next few weeks following the attack on the Muggle village in the Black Forest flew by for Harry, who was discovering just how grueling and exhausting his schedule was between teaching, taking N.E.W.T. classes, and Quidditch. He was grateful for Hermione's help teaching the younger years and treasured the lesson plans they had spent weeks putting together at the end of the summer. His N.E.W.T. classes were challenging and the homework load was worse than 5th year preparations for the O.W.L.s. Harry, however, found himself eager to learn and putting a greater effort into his homework than he had in his previous years at Hogwarts. Nothing was going to keep Harry from becoming an Auror. Hermione was impressed by Harry's increased interests in academics and was relieved that all Harry ever asked of her was to look over his essays for any glaring errors, which there were very little. Ron, on the other hand, was not so keen on applying himself in his final year.

"Come on, 'Mione. Just the introduction, _please_. I swear, I'll never ask you for anything ever again," Ron begged.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her desperate boyfriend sitting across from her in the Common Room. She had heard this promise at least ten times in the last two weeks and she was beginning to grow weary of it. Though she wasn't having much trouble balancing her homework and her teaching responsibilities, it was becoming increasingly complicated by Ron's constant pleas for her help. Help that usually consisted of Ron paraphrasing her own work or Hermione staying up for an extra hour or two and writing Ron's essays while he listlessly flipped through his textbooks pretending to study.

"Fine but this is the last time, Ronald Weasley. You'll never pass your examinations if you don't start doing some of this on your own. Honestly, I don't know why I let you push me over all these years," Hermione grumbled, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment and starting to write.

"Because you're the most brilliant, kind person I've ever met," said Ron, giving Hermione a kiss on the cheek as he walked over to Harry, who was sitting in his favorite armchair working on a Charms essay.

"Ron, you really should try doing some of your homework on your own. I think Hermione is feeling a bit used at the moment," said Harry, looking up form his essay.

Ron sat down in the chair next to Harry and let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, if she didn't want to do it, she wouldn't. It's Hermione after all."

"She did have a good point about the N.E.W.T.s though. I mean, these are the ones that will define what we do after Hogwarts," argued Harry, angry that Ron was dismissing Hermione's frustration so easily.

"Easy for you to say," Ron snapped back, "You only have to get three N.E.W.T.s to qualify for Auror training because of last year. I still don't understand why Hermione and I weren't at least offered two free N.E.W.T.s as well. Bloody hell, we performed magic as well as you did. Just because we weren't the ones to kill Voldemort doesn't mean we aren't as good wizards. Besides, I don't know that I want to be an Auror anyway. Thinking I might follow in Wood's footsteps and try-out for keeper on one of the reserve teams for the Chuddley Cannons. Doesn't matter what I make on the N.E.W.T.s then."

Harry stared at Ron in disbelief.

"You know I didn't ask to only need three N.E.W.T.s to qualify for training! And it's not like I've been just sitting here on my arse enjoying the good life," Harry's voice was getting louder. "You haven't even tried to do your own homework! You just beg Hermione until she gives in. I don't know why she puts up with you. She deserves someone that actually appreciates her!"

"Oi!" Ron shouted, standing up. "If you don't shut your bloody trap, I will shut it for you. I don't care if you are Harry-freaking-Potter! You think you're so much better than everyone because you killed Voldemort, you saved the world, you're the golden boy of the wizarding world!"

By now, the entire Common Room was silent, watching Harry and Ron. Hermione was standing as well, unsure of what was happening.

"I HAVE NEVER THOUGHT I WAS BETTER THAN ANYONE!" bellowed Harry, shaking with anger.

"Really? Professor! Youngest Quidditch player in a century! Boy Who Lived! Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who! Tri-Wizard Champion! Basilisk Killer! And however many other bloody titles you have!"

"Harry! Ron! Stop it!"

Hermione couldn't stand the shouting any longer. Rushing over, she placed herself between Ron and Harry, desperate to calm them down.

"Please, both of you! Fighting isn't going to help anything!"

"Stay out of this Hermione!" barked Ron, pushing her hand away from his chest.

"Don't touch her!" Harry growled menacingly.

"I'll do whatever I damn well please! In case you forgot, mate, this isn't last year. You're not the leader anymore. I don't have to answer to you," Ron retorted with an equally menacingly look.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on down here?" asked Ginny form the staircase.

"Ginny! Please, help me. I can't get them to stop," Hermione asked desperately.

With one look at the two boys, Ginny raced to Harry's side and cautiously grabbed his arm.

"Come on, Harry, just walk away. It's not worth it. You're both tired from the late-night Quidditch practices. You don't mean what you're saying."

Hermione implored Ron with a similar speech. Harry and Ron, both breathing hard and using ever last bit of will power not to trounce the other, backed away. Not taking his eyes off of Ron, Harry grabbed his things and let Ginny guide him upstairs. Hermione attempted to hold on to Ron's elbow to take him back to her table, but he jerked his arm away viciously. With a last look toward the stairs Harry had just disappeared up, Ron turned around and left through the portrait hole without a word. Hermione stood in the middle of the Common Room, her eyes filled with tears, unsure of whether to chase after Ron or see if Harry was okay. In the end, she decided to walk back to her table, ignoring the stares and whispers from the other Gryffindors, and went back to writing Ron's essay.

The next day, Harry left the dormitory before anyone else was awake, quickly eating breakfast and going to his office, still angry with Ron from the night before. Shortly after sitting down his desk chair, there was a knock on the door. Confused as to who could be coming to his office at this hour, Harry called for the visitor to come in. It was Hermione.

"Hermione? Why did you knock? This is your office too," Harry said, relieved to see her. He felt terrible that Hermione and Ginny had gotten caught in the middle of the fight between him and Ron.

"I know," said Hermione quietly, "I figured you were hiding in here from Ron so I didn't want to disturb you, in case you wanted some time alone."

"Thanks, Hermione. I appreciate it," Harry said. "Hermione, about last night… I'm sorry you got up in that mess. I don't know what I was thinking. I was a complete arse. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"Yes, you probably should have," Hermione said, making Harry lower his head in shame, "but I appreciate you standing up for me. You just said what I wasn't brave enough to say to him." She let out a small sigh. "You know Ron didn't mean what he was saying about you. He was just mad and jealous."

"No, he meant what he said," Harry admitted wearily. "He wouldn't have said it otherwise, angry or not. Can't say I blame him, though. Face it, I do have a hundred bloody titles that make me sound a lot better than I am. I did get excused from two N.E.W.T.s when you and Ron deserved to be excused just as well. I mean, I wouldn't have gotten very far without the two of you. I honestly meant to talk to Kingsley about getting you both excused but then school started and then there was the Death Eater attack that took all of the Ministry's attention…" Harry was desperate to show Hermione that he didn't think he was better than anyone and that he deeply appreciated Ron and Hermione's help last year.

"I know, Harry, and Ron does too, if he would cool his temper longer enough to think straight," Hermione said bitterly. "I don't want to excuse Ron's behavior, but, and I swear if you tell him I told you this I will hex you, he's worried about what he's going to do after Hogwarts. He's not sure he'll get all of the qualifying N.E.W.T.s for Auror training and he thinks Quidditch is the only other thing he might be decent at but he's afraid he's not a good enough keeper to get picked up."

"But Ron's a brilliant keeper. He's come a long way since 5th year. He's at least as good as Oliver Wood, might even be better," said Harry, momentarily forgetting his anger at Ron. "As far as the N.E.W.T.s go, why do you keep doing his homework? Ron may be a bit thick some times, but he's not stupid. He could get the qualifying grades if he put his mind to it."

Hermione sighed and walked over to her desk, sitting down with an exhausted expression on her face. "He's miserable, Harry. He doesn't want anyone to know because, well, he's Ron. I don't know how to help him, besides doing his homework. I guess I keep hoping that if he at least reads what I write for him, something might stick that will help him with the examinations. Ron feels like he doesn't know what his place is anymore. Last year, he knew he was meant to help you find and destroy the horcruxes. We were the big players in a war. Ron loved the attention he caught afterward. All the interviews, the people who recognized on the street in Diagon Alley… Now, you and I are teachers, Ginny is captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Ron… Ron isn't sure where he fits in."

If there was any anger at Ron left in Harry, it disappeared as Hermione spoke. How had Harry not known Ron was feel so dismal? Guilt welled up in Harry, as he realized how little time he had spent with Ron this year, other than on the Quidditch pitch and at meals. He couldn't remember the last time the two of them had spoken to each other without Hermione or Ginny around. Harry and Hermione sat in sad, thoughtful silence, neither sure what to say now. Harry absentmindedly rubbed his scar. Though it had not physically pained him since the night Voldemort died, it still managed to bring emotional pain to him and his friends with everything it represented.

"How long do you think it'll be before Ron speaks to me again," Harry asked, gloomily.

"Give it a day or two. It's not like this was your first fight ever. It might not be a bad idea to try and see if you can get some time alone with Ron, maybe in the dormitory or the Common Room. He won't admit it, but he misses his best mate."

"Yeah. Right. I'll see what I can do."

It was another three days before Harry found himself alone with Ron in their dormitory. Prior to then, they had, on the few occasions when they had found themselves in the same room with other people, kept a tense silence. McGonagall, who had allowed Ron and Hermione to take Transfiguration with Harry on Tuesday's nights, had felt the stiffness between Ron and Harry, but choose not to say anything about it. Instead, she let them out early, which allowed Ron and Harry to return to an empty dormitory. Ron, upon entering the room, drew his bag beside his bed and began to loosen his scarlet and gold tie, keeping his back to Harry. Harry deciding to get the awkward conversation over with, stood between Ron and the doorway, preventing Ron from leaving.

"Ron, we need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about," Ron muttered, refusing to look Harry in the eye.

"Yes, there is," Harry said firmly. "Look, mate, I was out of line with what I said the other night. And, well, I'm sorry."

Surprised, Ron said, "Oh. Uh. Right. I'm sorry too, Harry. You weren't completely off your rocker with what you said. Just didn't want to admit it. Haven't really been myself lately, I guess."

"We're good, then? Don't think I could survive my 7th year without my best mate," said Harry, holding out his hand.

Ron smiled and grasped Harry's hand, giving it a firm shake. Then the two boys burst into laughter at how awkward and formal the situation had become. Taking advantage of their time alone, they sat down on their beds and filled the other in on how things had really been going. Most of what Ron said fell in line with what Hermione had told Harry a few days earlier. Harry shared his fears about teaching, Auror training, and how much he wished he wasn't always going to be remembered and referred to as the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who. Harry and Ron talked for a few hours, undisturbed, and then headed down in the Common Room to let Hermione know they had finally reconciled.

The morning of the Quidditch match with Slytherian, a few weeks later, Harry, Ron, and Ginny stood side by side, looking from the entrance to the Quidditch pitch at the hundreds of students dressed in green, silver, scarlet, and gold. Though it had been over a year since their last Quidditch match, they were feeling quite confident that they would be able to beat the Slytherian team quite easily. The oldest member of the Slytherian team was a 5th year named Jasmine Tether. The rest of the team was made up of 3rd and 4th years who had potential to be good Quidditch players but compared to the veteran Gryffindor team, they stood little chance of winning. Still, Ginny had scheduled a practice every evening, with the exception of Tuesday, when Harry and Ron had Transfiguration, so they wouldn't let their guard down too much.

"Alright, everyone," Ginny said, turning around to face the team, "this is it. Just because we're facing a young, inexperienced team doesn't mean we can go easy. We play hard. We play fair. We win. Got it?"

"Blimey, remember the speeches we used to get from Angelina before games? I'm glad Ginny knows how to keep things short and to the point," Ron whispered to Harry.

"No joke. Though, Ginny heard me complain enough about Wood's speeches and then she had to deal with Angelina's as well, I imagine she's trying to make it a point to keep 'em short," Harry whispered back.

"I heard that you two!" Ginny glared at Harry and Ron. "If you would like me to rant for another 10 minutes I can, since it is clear you two aren't listening anyway."

"Sorry, Ginny," Ron and Harry muttered as the other members of the team laughed.

"Boys. I swear. Come on, mount your brooms, it's time to go," Ginny commanded.

Harry swung his leg over his broom and tried to focus his mind on the match. With a nod from Madame Hooch, Harry, along with the rest of the team, kicked off and soared into the stadium. The crowd was so loud, you would have thought the Gryffindor team had just won. Taking a lap around the field, Harry looked into the stands and saw Hermione standing with Neville and Luna. Luna was wearing a rather large gold lion headpiece. Hermione was holding a sign that said "Fight, Fight Gryffindor" and Neville was waving a scarlet and gold pennant wildly in the air.

It was a perfect day for Quidditch. There was a cool breeze from the northeast blowing just enough to keep the players cool but not so strong as to affect flying or Quaffle passes. As Harry looped around the Gryffindor hoops, the Slytherian team entered the pitch. Pausing over the middle hoop, Harry felt sorry for the Slytherians. They looked so small compared to the Gryffindor team. The Slytherian seeker, Brian Mason, a third year, kept looking every direction, as though he thought the Snitch had already been released.

"Oi! Harry! Get in position!" Ron shouted at him, flying towards the hoops.

Harry shook his head.

"Get your head in the game, Potter," he thought to himself.

He flew towards the center of the field and waited for Madame Hooch to release the balls. The fans died down as Madame Hooch walked towards the trunk holding the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Golden Snitch. The grey, spiked hair flying instructor and Quidditch referee, in her official black and white robes, gazed up at the players with her yellow, hawk-like eyes and a fierce smile on her face.

"Alright, I expect a fair match today!" she shouted up at the players. "And make it a good one, Hogwarts has gone too long without a Quidditch match, let's not disappoint the fans."

Harry's respect for Madame Hooch grew with her passionate words. He knew she loved Quidditch and he could only imagine how hard it must have been for her to go an entire year without referring a single Hogwarts Quidditch match. Harry tightened his grip on his broom handle, ready to fly. Madame Hooch placed her thin silver whistle in her mouth and gave the ball box a kick. The two Bludgers and the Snitch flew from the box with enormous speed, as though they were just as eager to be back on the Quidditch pitch as the players. Bending down, Madame Hooch picked up the Quaffle, took a deep breath, blew into the whistle, and threw the Quaffle high into the air.

Ginny reached the Quaffle first, ducking under one of the Slytherian Chasers and raced towards the Slytherian hoops. The Slytherian Keeper, a 4th year named Jansen Flume, had a look of sheer terror on his face, as Ginny approached, Quaffle in her right hand, ready to throw. Just as she was about to score, out of no where, Kendra Holtz, a 3rd year, flew up from under Ginny and took the Quaffle from Ginny's outstretched hand. Harry, who had been circling above, looking for a glint of gold, was impressed by the play, considering Ginny's speech about keeping up their guard. He had to admit, it was a bit satisfying to see the look of shock and disbelief on Ginny's face as Holtz stole the Quaffle. Suddenly, there was a loud cheer from the crowd. Turning his head, Harry saw Ron holding the Quaffle. Apparently, he had just made a brilliant save.

"Harry! Quit watching the Quaffle and find the damn Snitch!" Ginny called, taking her anger from being bested by a 3rd year Slytherian, on Harry.

Harry didn't respond. Instead, he threw a dark look at Ginny, and flew away. He knew Ginny was a good coach and a great Quidditch player but it was hard to take orders from someone not only younger than him, but his girlfriend as well. He did not expect favoritism or for Ginny to go easy on him by any means. Just like Ron, professional Quidditch was Harry's back-up plan if Auror training didn't work out. However, lately, it seemed as though Ginny was being extra harsh on Harry, making sure to point out Harry's mistakes obnoxiously loud, so that everyone on the team could hear. He had been meaning to talk Ginny about it, but their time was limited, at best, with Harry's hectic schedule. The few hours they did have together each week, he wanted to spend enjoying her company, not fighting.

Changing tactics, Harry flew closer to the ground, now wanting to catch the Snitch just so the game would end sooner and he wouldn't have to deal with anymore "demands" from his "captain." As he continued to circle around the pitch, keeping one eye on the Slytherian's Seeker, Gryffindor scored five goals without much trouble. The Slytherian Chasers were, individual, talented, but they had not yet learned how to work together to get the Quaffle from one side of the pitch to the other. Passes were intercepted. Quaffles were stolen from poorly protected arms. The Slytherian Beaters were so focused on keeping the Bludgers from knocking them off their brooms, they didn't bother to try aiming at any of the Gryffindor places. In fact, they had hit their own players twice, nearly knocking out Jasmine Tether. Now, catching the Snitch would be showing some mercy to the Slytherian team, whose moral was dropping as fast as the Gryffindor score was rising.

Then Harry saw it, a glimmer of bright gold, buzzing around the middle hoop just below were Ron was sitting. Learning forward on his broom, Harry sprinted towards Ron as the crowd began to cheer louder. Harry's heart raced with adrenaline and his unwavering eyes squinted in concentration. He could sense Mason approaching from behind but his eyes never left the Snitch, which was now zooming towards the box where the professors were sitting. Steering towards the right, Harry leaned forward further, increasing his speed, dodging in and out of players and Bludgers. Mason was now alongside Harry, audibly begging his broom to go faster. The Snitch flew behind the box, forcing Harry and Mason to split apart, each going around one side, only to fly back around towards the center of the pitch, as the Snitch lead them on. Harry and Mason were side by side once again, gaining on the Snitch. At the same moment, they both reached out, stretching as far as they dared, fingers barely brushing the back of the Snitch. Suddenly, the Snitch dropped towards the crown and Harry and Mason immediately dove. As the ground sped towards them, Harry remembered his first Quidditch match where he raced the Slytherian seeker towards the ground in a game of chicken. It had been Harry who won, catching the Snitch in his mouth. Luckily for Harry, who now had a faster broom and more experience, was able to just outreach Mason and snatch the Snitch with his hand, before pulling up on his broom and landing triumphantly with his first in the air.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Madame Hooch shouted, blowing her whistle to signal the end of the game.

The crowd roared and Harry was knocked to the ground by Ginny, who had thrown herself at Harry in excitement. The rest of the Gryffindor team then jumped on top of both of them, shouting and laughing. For the first time, in a very, very long time, Harry felt like a normal student. His only thought, as he laid buried underneath a slew of Gryffindors, was that he hoped Sirius and his parents could see him now. What Harry didn't know, was that there was someone watching him closely from afar.

Nott stood, his gaze fixed on the Quidditch pitch. Based on the crowd's cheer, he assumed Potter had caught the Snitch somewhere close to the ground, out of Nott's sight. Hearing a branch snap behind him, Nott whirled around, wand drawn, ready to duel.

"Put your wand away, boy. It is only us."

The three hooded figures emerged from the shadows, their wands also drawn.

Nott gave them a small nod, and slipped his wand back into his robes.

"News?" he asked them briskly.

"We have found the family. They are not protected by Muggles or magic. We can easily attack and leave before anyone in the Muggle or wizarding community has the slightest inklings something happened," the smallest figure said with pleasure.

"When would you like to attack?" said one of the other figures.

"Tonight. It must happen tonight," Nott said earnestly. "I need to get out of these woods and Potter just managed to win his Quidditch match."

"What does Potter's match have to do with any of this?" the largest of the figures asked.

"Right about now, I imagine Potter is feeling like nothing can go wrong, that all is right in the world, and that there is hope this year will be a good year for him and his little friends at Hogwarts. His moral will be at its highest and therefore, will fall to its lowest when the news reaches him by morning of what has happened," Nott explained impatiently.

"I see. Let us move out then. We should be able to get to the house by nightfall."

Nott turned back towards the pitch, his body surging with energy, and softly said, "Enjoy your victory for now, Potter. You won't be feeling so victorious tomorrow."


	9. The Dursleys

**Chapter Nine: The Dursleys**

All was quiet in the boys dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower. Ron had kicked his covers off with one long, lanky leg resting off of the side of the bed. His rhythmic snoring was only interrupted by the occasional incoherent mutterings of Neville, who was dreaming about a wrestling match between Devil's Snare and mandrakes. The moon hung low in the night sky, signaling that dawn was not far away, when the door to the dormitory opened soundlessly. Professor McGonagall walked slowly towards Harry's bed holding a single yellow candle. Her black hair, normally pulled back in a tight bun, was down and it was clear she had just woken up. She did not want wish to wake Harry, who appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully. There was a deep sadness in her eyes and her face had an expression of remorse and guilt. Leaning over him, McGonagall placed her hand on Harry's arm and gentle shook it.

"Potter. Potter, wake up, please," she whispered.

Harry's eyes fluttered open and he jumped slightly at seeing someone standing over him. He reached over, put on his glasses, and was surprised to see Professor McGonagall standing over him.

"P-Professor?" Harry asked, uncertain if this was a dream.

"Potter, put on your robe and follow me, please. I'll explain everything once we reach my office."

"Professor, what's going on?" Harry whispered urgently, his stomach beginning to tighten with worry and confusion.

"Potter, stop asking questions and do as I tell you," she snapped, then gently added, "It's better if I explain everything to you there. Quietly now, we don't want to wake the others."

Harry, sensing that something was clearly wrong but not wanting to wake his fellow Gryffindors, did as McGonagall ordered. In tense, awkward silence, he followed her back to her office. As they ascended the spiral staircase, Harry's mind raced with reasons why McGonagall was dragging him out of bed at this hour. Harry did not like the pained expression McGonagall had on her face. When they entered the office, Harry saw that all of the portraits were still sleeping, with the exception of one. Dumbledore sat in his portrait, his hands clasped by his frowning mouth, his blue eyes not sparkling like they usually did.

McGonagall motioned to the green armchair in her front of her desk. "Have a seat Potter, the Minister will be here shortly. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. The Minister? Why is the Minister coming? Professor, what's happened?" The sense of dread in Harry was growing. If the Minister was coming, this was something serious.

McGonagall sighed and sat down behind the desk, rubbing her temple and searching for the right words.

"Have you heard from the Dursleys since you left them last year?" McGonagall finally asked.

"What? Oh, no. I haven't seen or heard from them since the night I left Privet Drive for the last time." Harry had not expected this question. He had not thought about the Dursleys for months. The last time he had, it was because of his elation that he would never have to be subject to their cruelty ever again. "Why do you ask, Professor?"

"There's no easy way to say this, Potter. The, the Dursleys have been murdered."

Murdered? The Dursleys? Harry was now wide awake and unsure of what to say or feel. The Dursleys had verbally, emotionally, and one could probably make an argument for physically, abused him for years. They had only tolerated his existence in their home because of threats from Dumbledore. In the end, the kindest words he ever heard from the Dursleys came out of Dudley on the day of their departure, when he told Harry that he didn't think Harry was a waste of space. Yet, they were his only remaining family, his last blood connection to his parents.

"Harry?" McGonagall asked softly.

Harry looked up, rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly. "I-I don't know what to say. What happened exactly? When did this happen?"

McGonagall glanced at the portrait of Dumbledore. He gave her a small nod of encouragement. "The Minister will be able to provide you with more specific details but, from what his patronus told me, they were attacked by Death Eaters. The Dark Mark was seen over their house."

Harry swallowed hard. "I don't understand. I thought they were put into hiding, I thought they were suppose to be kept safe in case Voldemort sent Death Eaters after them?"

McGonagall, not knowing how to answer Harry's question, simply said, "You'll have to ask the Minister. I'm sorry, Potter. Now, if you'll stay here, I'm going to go and get us something to eat and drink while we wait for the Minister." With that, she got up quickly, and left the room.

Harry knew that McGonagall could have just called for one of the house elves instead of walking to the kitchen but he was almost certain he saw tears in her eyes as she sped past him and out the door. He knew it was not the death of the Dursleys she was mourning. Maybe it was guilt that the Dursleys had not been better protected? Guilt that once again Harry would have to deal with the fact that more people from his life, even if he was not particularly close to the Dursleys, were taken from him? Or perhaps it was fear, fear that Harry was still not safe, that there were still people wanting him dead, and they were beginning to make their move?

Harry was not sure whether it was the early morning hours that were making it difficult for him to grasp the news he just heard or if he just did not wanting to believe it. Getting up from his chair, he walked over the beautiful scarlet phoenix sitting in the corner.

"Hey, Fawkes, I thought you had left Hogwarts for good," Harry said, petting the beautiful bird.

"Actually, that is Fawkes sister, Aurora."

Harry jumped at the grandfatherly voice. Turning around, he looked up at Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did you just say this is Fawkes sister?"

Dumbledore smiled down at Harry, "Indeed it is, my boy. She arrived at the school over the summer, shortly after the battle. I do not know whether Fawkes sent her so that Professor McGonagall would have a companion or if there is another reason for her appearance. Regardless, I am glad Professor McGonagall has her, you never know when a phoenix could come in handy," Dumbledore said, winking at Harry.

Harry grinned, remembering how Fawkes had saved his life in the Chamber of Secrets and allowed Dumbledore to escape when the Umbridge and Fudge tried to have him arrested. Harry gave the phoenix a closer look and realized that there were some differences between her and her brother. She was slightly smaller and her tail had a few blue and green feathers within the bundle of scarlet and gold. As he continued to admire the phoenix, McGonagall entered the office with a tray of pumpkin juice and an assortment of pastries floating in the air behind her. Then Harry remembered why he was here. The Dursleys were dead.

"Help yourself, Potter," McGonagall said, pointing to the tray that had just landed on the edge of her desk. "I expect the Minister will be here shortly."

Harry's stomach was churning again. Deciding he didn't want to worry McGonagall, he poured himself a small glass of pumpkin juice and nibbled the tip of one of the pastries. A few minutes passed, then McGonagall's fireplace roared and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minster for Magic, stepped out.

"Mornin' Headmistress, Harry." Kingsley's deep voice echoed off the stone walls. "I imagine you have already filled Harry in what has happened?" he said to McGonagall.

"Yes, the basic details," she said, conjuring up a chair next to Harry for him.

"Good," he said, sitting down and turning towards Harry. "Harry, please accept my condolences, you have suffered much over the years, I am sorry that more has been added to that burden."

Harry stared at his hands. It was not grief that was threatening to overwhelm him, but guilt. Guilt that more human lives had been taken because of him.

Kingsley, taking Harry's silence as permission to go on, said, "From what we can tell, the attack happened sometime before midnight. Neighbors who were still awake said they saw flashes of green coming from the house and then four people leave. Three were hooded, one of which cast the Dark Mark. The other appeared to be a teenage boy."

"But I thought they were suppose to be protected? I thought no one was suppose to be able to find them?" Harry asked, anger rising in his voice.

"I am afraid I am to blame for that, Harry," Kingsley said sorrowfully. "After the attack on the Muggle village, I pulled the two Aurors I had watching over your aunt, uncle, and cousin. We needed the extra help for the search and no Death Eaters had been within 50 miles of the Dursleys since they left Privet Drive. Though there were still numerous protective charms in place over their home. They had to have been strong wizards to break through them so easily. I am deeply sorry, Harry. This is my fault."

Harry shook his head, "No, Minister, you couldn't have known they would be the target of an attack after all this time. If anything, it is mine. Whoever attacked them is obviously trying to send me a message." Harry gripped his knees tightly, trying to desire to hop on his broom and go after the Death Eaters who had killed his only remaining family.

"Harry."

McGonagall, Harry, and Kingsley looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore.

"Now is not the time to be making rash decisions. That is exactly what they want you to do. " Dumbledore said, reading Harry's mind.

McGonagall nodded her head, "We will increase the security around the castle and during Hogsmeade visits."

"And I shall contact Arthur about placing some more protective charms around the Burrow, as well as assign two Aurors to begin searching for Miss Granger's parents in Australia," Kingsley added.

Harry's heart plummeted at Kingsley's response. He had not thought about the Weasley's or Hermione's parents also being in danger. It would make sense for the Death Eaters to attack one of them next. Harry pulled at his hair in frustration. What did the Death Eaters want from him? Were they trying to lure him from Hogwarts? Were they merely enacting revenge on Harry for killing Voldemort? Harry needed to get out of McGonagall's office, away from the stares of pity and concern, and go someplace where he could think.

"Thank you, Minister, for letting me know what happened. If you don't mind, Professor, I think I'm going to go sleep for a couple of hours before breakfast," Harry said.

"Alright, Potter. Should you need anything, or need to talk to someone, my door is open," McGonagall said, worry clearly etched on her face.

"Harry, I will keep you updated on any new information we receive. Please, listen to Dumbledore and do not do anything rash. I promise you, the entire Auror department is on the case," Kingsley said, standing to shake Harry's hand.

Harry numbly took Kingsley's hand and with a nod towards McGonagall, he left the office. The sun was just beginning to rise outside. Faint traces of golden light began to edge its way over the windows. The castle was silent. As Harry walked down the empty corridor towards Gryffindor tower, he debated whether to go to his office or actually try to get some sleep. In the end, he went up to the dormitory, got dressed, grabbed his broom and headed to the Quidditch pitch. Flying had always helped him clear his head and it would allow him some extra time to avoid having to tell Ron, Hermione, and Ginny what had happened.

The grass was wet with the morning dew and the air was chilly, but Harry didn't notice. He mounted his broom, kicked off from the ground, and began to do laps around the pitch. Less than a day ago, he had been here, listening to hundreds of people chant his name after he caught the Snitch and secured a Gryffindor victory. Now, that moment felt like years ago. Harry flew up above the pitch to where he had a clear view in all directions. He paused for a few minutes and watched the sun continue to rise above the Great Lake, making the water shine brilliant shade of blue. Harry thought about how the Dursleys would never see another sunrise again. He wondered if they knew there about to be killed by the same curse that killed his parents but had failed to kill him. He wondered if they blamed him in their final breath.

Tears began to form in Harry's eyes, as anger, guilt, and a small amount of grief began to grow in his heart. Harry leaned low on his broomstick and took off in a nosedive towards the ground. The wind nearly whipped his glasses from his face. Blood rushed to his head. Adrenaline coursed through his body as the ground got closer and closer and closer. For a brief moment, Harry contemplated not pulling up and letting his body hit the ground at full speed, but only for a moment. Giving the broom handle a hard yank, Harry's feet barely brushed the ground as he leveled out and took to the air once again. Soon, dark clouds covered the sun and moved over the castle grounds. A storm was moving in. The already chilled air became bitterly cold and Harry was starting to lose feeling in his hands. He regretted leaving his gloves in his trunk. Just as the rain began falling, Harry touched down and walked slowly back to the castle, letting the rain pelt him mercilessly.

Harry could hear the sounds of talking and the clatter of silverware coming from the Great Hall. Not hungry and shivering from the cold, Harry headed back upstairs to change into dry clothes and maybe get some sleep before the others came back from breakfast. However, just as he turned the corner up the stairs, he bumped hard into someone.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't see you," Harry stammered while bending down to pick up his broomstick.

"Harry! Where have you been? We've been searching everywhere for you!"

Hermione was waving her arms wildly, as though to convey exactly how far they had been searching.

"Ron said he woke up this morning and you weren't here. Then when you weren't at breakfast we got worried."

"Oh, yeah. I just decided to for an early morning ride, that's all," Harry said, holding up his broom.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You're also soaking wet. How about next time you leave a note or something so we're not all scared half to death?"

"I will. I'm sorry." Harry managed a meager smile, desperate to end the conversation but apparently, fate was not on his side.

"Harry! Harry!"

"Mate! Where have you been?"

Ron and Ginny came running from behind Harry. Ginny threw herself at Harry, before quickly pulling away once she realized he was dripping with water.

"Why are you wet?"

"Someone decided they wanted to go flying in the rain this morning," Hermione told Ginny.

"Huh?" Ginny looked at Harry confused.

"It wasn't raining when I first got out. I just got caught in it when I was walking back to the castle, that's all," Harry said impatiently. "I'm going to go change, I'll catch up with you all later."

"Oh no you don't," Ginny said, grabbing Harry's arm to prevent him from leaving. She stared into Harry's eyes searchingly. "Something is wrong, I can tell, and you're not leaving until you tell us what."

"Nothing is wrong," Harry said firmly. He was not ready to tell him about the Dursleys or that their families might be in danger simply because they know him. He needed more time to think, to process, to make some sort of plan to fix this. "Now, will you lot please let me go put on some dry clothes?"

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stepped back, surprised at Harry's tone. As Harry walked away from them, they looked at each other, silently affirming that something was indeed wrong with their friend. Harry slammed the door to his empty dormitory shut and began to change. He wondered how long he could keep from telling his friends about the Dursleys. Kingsley had probably already spoken to Mr. Weasley who, Harry was sure, had spoken to Mrs. Weasley. Harry wondered how long before she sent an owl giving her condolences and telling him not to go looking for trouble. Luckily, for Harry, there was no owl from Mrs. Weasley that day or the next and his friends did not ask him again, what was wrong. Crawling into bed, he quickly fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams plagued by images of the Dursleys and flashes of green light.


	10. A Conflicted Heart

**Chapter Ten: A Conflicted Heart**

On Monday at breakfast, Harry tried his best to keep his thoughts away from the Dursleys and the Death Eaters. He had purposefully gotten up early to be one of the first to breakfast, so as to avoid any more worried looks from Ron, Hermione, of Ginny, who Harry knew had tried very hard not to ask him what was wrong the day before after he snapped at them. After quickly eating, Harry went to his classroom and focused on his upcoming lesson with the first years. Harry and Hermione were going to be teaching them _Expelliarmus. _Harry walked around the classroom, using his wand to move the desks and benches along the wall. Once the room was cleared, Harry sat behind his desk at the front of the classroom and waited for the bell to ring and students to arrive.

"Professor Potter?"

Harry looked up and saw Earc Maclean standing nervously in the door.

"Earc, you're here early."

"I-I wanted to talk to you about something before class started, if that is okay," Earc said, twisting the bit of parchments in his hand.

"Of course, come in, Earc. What's going on?" Harry asked, bringing one of the benches in front of his desk with a flick of his wand.

Earc sat down and handed the parchment to Harry. "There's been another attack on Muggles and, and, to be honest, sir, it's freaking me out."

Harry looked down at the parchment. It was the front page of the Daily Prophet. The headline read:

_Does You-Know-Who Have A Successor?_

_Another Muggle Home Attacked_

Harry skimmed the article quickly and was relieved to know that they had not named the Muggle family who had been murdered.

"Thank you, Kinglsey," Harry muttered to himself.

"Sir?"

Harry turned his attention back to Earc.

"Earc, it's understandable that you're afraid but you do know that Hogwarts is the safest place you can be right now, don't you?"

"I know, sir. It's not me that I'm worried about, it's my family. I'm, I'm muggle-born, you see. What if the Death Eaters attack them next? They won't be able to protect themselves," Earc said fearfully.

Harry wasn't sure what to say to comfort the boy. He was tempted to tell Earc that he didn't need to worry because the Death Eaters were only trying to get to Harry by attacking the people closest to him. He wanted to Earc that the family that was killed was Harry's last living relatives. Earc was too young to be consumed with fear and worry about the safety of his family from dark wizards. No one should be living in fear and worry with Voldemort gone.

"Earc," Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "I understand your fear and worry, I would be feeling the same way if I was in your shoes. I won't lie and tell you that your family is in no danger because the truth is, as long as those Death Eaters are out there, we are all in danger. Muggles and wizards alike. But I will tell you this, if you let your fear and worry consume you, they win. These people, they thrive on spreading fear and chaos because they know it makes us weaker. So we have to be strong, we have to be brave, and we have to prepare ourselves the best we can to defend ourselves and the people we care about most in this world."

"It's like what Professor Granger told us at the beginning of the year, isn't it? That evil is always around so we always have to be prepared," Earc said with a determined expression on his face.

"Exactly," said Harry. Then, leaning forward on his desk, he said, "You already know that we're going to be practicing _Expelliarmus _today but what no one else in this class, besides Professor Granger, knows is that it is the spell that saved my life the two times I dueled Voldemort."

Earc looked at Harry in awe and excitement. "Really?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Now, _Expelliarmus _won't always guarantee a victory, especially if you're dueling a skilled wizard, but it is a foundational spell in defensive magic."

"Still, I think I'll feel a little bit better once I've got that spell down. Who knows, maybe it will help me protect my family one day," Earc said, all the worry gone from his voice.

Harry laughed, "You never know."

At the moment, the bell rang and Harry could hear student's voices coming down the corridor. Earc stood up and walked to the center of the classroom as Harry moved the bench back against the wall. Harry glanced at his pocketwatch.

"Odd," he thought to himself, "Hermione should have been here by now."

Hermione still had not arrived when all the students were assembled in the middle of the classroom. Harry, not knowing what else to do, decided to go ahead with the lesson.

"Alright class. Last week we talked about some of the basic defensive spells every witch and wizard should know. Who can tell me two of those spells?" Harry asked.

Immediately, Earc Maclean's hand shot in the air. Harry grinned.

"Yes, Mr. Maclean."

"_Expelliarmus _and _Protego_," Earc confidently stated.

"Very good. 5 points to Gryffindor. Now, today we are going to practice _Expelliarmus. _So, if everyone will find a partner, and then situate yourselves on opposite sides of the room, we will begin."

The students excitedly began pairing up and taking their positions. Harry was pleased to see that a number of Gryffindors and Slytherians had paired up with each other. While all of the houses were still competitive when it came to winning the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup, everyone was making extra efforts to get to know members of the other houses. The younger Slytherians, in an effort to redeem their house's name, had been working especially hard at becoming friends with the other houses. So far, to Harry at least, it appeared to be working.

"Alright, now, remember as you say the incantation, wave your wand in a small circle, CLOCKWISE, with a short downwards stroke at the end," Harry instructed. "I'll be walking around the room helping you with your technique. Remember, it's okay if you don't get it right the first time, that's why we are practicing. Everyone ready? Begin!"

The room erupted in shouts of _Expelliarmus. _For the first ten minutes, no one had successfully disarmed their partner. As Harry went around to each pair, he corrected pronunciations, wand movements, and stances.

"It's not _Expellmus_, Miss Jameson, it's _Expelliarmus_."

"Smaller circles, Mr. Kirk. Clockwise! Clockwise!"

"Grip your wand tighter, Mr. McMurray. There you go."

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The class fell silent as Willow Palmer's wand flew from her hand and was caught by Earc Maclean. Then, they erupted in cheers, many walking over to pat Earc on the back.

"Well done, Mr. Maclean! 10 points to Gryffindor!" congratulated Harry. "Alright, next person to disarm someone, besides Mr. Maclean, will get 5 points for their house."

With the promise of house points, the other first years all took on serious expressions and began to concentrate. Harry was pleased with the results. A blonde Slytherian girl named Navri Rendum was the next to disarm someone. Fifteen minutes later, half of the class had disarmed their partner at least once.

"Okay, everyone. Let's take a ten minute break and then we'll go back to practicing. You all are doing extraordinarily well," Harry said proudly.

As the students filed out of the room, Hermione walked in, rubbing her eyes vigoriously with the sleeve of her rub. Harry was about to make a joke about the never-tardy Hermione being late for class, when he noticed her eyes were red and she was quietly sniffling. When all of the students had left the room, Harry walked up to her.

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry I'm late. I would have been here on time but Ron… Ron and I got into a fight and… Well, it's not important why we fought, but I lost track of time. I'm really sorry." Fresh tears started rolling down her face.

Harry, without thinking, hugged her. "It's okay, Hermione. Class has been going fine, they've actually been doing brilliantly. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Do I need give Ron a kick in the arse later?"

Hermione pulled away, laughing. "No, no. It was a stupid fight. We just seem to be doing it a lot lately and I didn't sleep well last night." Hermione didn't tell Harry that she couldn't sleep because she was worried about him. "I'm fine now, though, really. Thank you, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure why, but he was almost happy to heart that Ron and Hermione were fighting, though he hated that Hermione was hurting and felt a twinge of anger at Ron for hurting her. Before he could question her further, the students started returning to the classroom.

"Professor Granger! We thought you weren't coming in today," said a rather large Slytherian boy.

"Sorry, everyone. I got held up. Professor Potter tells me that you all have been performing the disarming charm very well," Hermione said to the class.

Everyone smiled and nodded.

"Earc was the first one to disarm someone!" Willow Palmer said, pointing at Earc.

"Is that so?" Hermione said, "Well done, Mr. Maclean."

"Alright everyone, get back with your partners. Let's see if we can't get everyone to disarm their partner at least once before the end of class," said Harry.

Harry and Hermione were very impressed with the students. By the end of the lesson, every single student had successfully performed the disarming charm. Harry awarded 20 points to each house and announced that they would go ahead and teach them _Protego_ next class session. When the bell rang, the first year Gryffindor and Slytherians left the class, eager to share the news of their success with others. Earc Maclean was the only one who stayed behind.

"Professor Potter, I just wanted to say thank you again for the talk this morning. It helped me to really focus on getting the spell right today," Earc said to Harry.

"No problem, Earc. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you, as is Professor Granger. Her parents are both Muggles as well," said Harry, gesturing Hermione, who looked confused.

"Thank you, sir. I'll remember that."

"What was that about?" Hermione asked as Earc left the room.

"He read about the attack on the Muggle family in the Prophet this morning. He's worried because he's muggle-born that his parents might be attacked by Death Eaters," explained Harry.

"Oh, well, I certainly can understand how he feels," Hemione said solemnly.

Harry could see that Hermione was missing her parents. He wanted to tell her that Kingsley had finally assigned some Aurors to begin searching for them, but he knew that would involve explaining that the murdered Muggle family had been the Dursleys. Harry just wasn't ready to do that yet.

"Um, well, I need to head to Potions, will you be all right for the next class?" asked Harry.

"Yes, I'll be fine Harry. Will I see you at lunch?" Hermione was concerned Harry was going to keep isolating himself from her and the others.

"I'll be at lunch, Hermione. I promise." reassured Harry.

When lunchtime came, Harry wished he hadn't made that promise to Hermione. It felt like everyone was trying to talk to Harry about the latest Death Eater attack, as though Harry would have all the answers to why it was happening and what the Ministry should do about it. Harry's responses consisted mostly of "I don't know" and "I'm sure the Minister will handle it," much to everyone's disappointment. He was grateful when Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville arrived and formed a protective barrier around him, preventing any more students from trying to sit next time him and pester him with questions. Hermione and Ginny sat on each side of Harry and Ron and Neville sat across from them. Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were making every effort to not look at each other.

"Doing alright there, Harry?" asked Neville, reaching for a roll.

"Yeah, fine," Harry sighed, hoping they would all eat quickly so they could leave the Great Hall.

"Oh, before I forget," said Ginny, before taking a bit of Shepherd's Pie, "I decided to give us the night off from Quidditch practice since we won on Saturday. I figured everyone could use a night off."

Harry knew Ginny was hinting that she wanting "Ginny and Harry" time that night. What Harry wanted, however, was a quiet night by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room to do homework and go to bed early.

"Or to be alone with Hermione and talk," he thought to himself. "Wait, no. I should want to be alone with Ginny and talk."

Harry shook his head slightly and turned towards Ginny, "Well, if we have the night off from practice, do you want to hang out tonight?"

Ginny's face lit up with satisfaction, "I would love it. How about we go for a walk by the lake after dinner?"

Harry nodded in agreement but not before glancing at Hermione. He thought for a moment that she looked disappointed.

"I'm just seeing things," Harry thought.

After lunch, Harry's 5th year Defense Against the Dark Arts class consisted of a student raising his or her hand once every ten minutes or so to ask about the most effective spells to use against the Death Eater's who had been attacking Muggles. Harry did his best to keep his temper under control and finally resorted to having the students duel each other, rather than continue his lecture on Dementors, so they couldn't ask him anymore questions. By dinner, Harry was actually looking forward to his date with Ginny, at least it meant he wouldn't be bothered about the Muggle attack. After dinner, Harry went upstairs and changed out of his school robes and met Ginny downstairs.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, taking Ginny's hand.

"Yup," Ginny replied cheerfully.

They walked along the edge of the Great Lake for a while in content silence. The light breeze rippled the water, causing it to glitter brightly under the setting sun. After a while, Harry found his thoughts drifting back towards Hermione.

"Ginny, how do you think things are between Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked casually.

Ginny, slightly surprised that Harry wanted to talk about Ron and Hermione, said, "I dunno. I heard they got into a row this morning after breakfast. Some first years said Hermione missed the first half of your class."

"Yeah, she came in right after I dismissed them for break. She had been crying," Harry said, remembering Hermione's red puffy eyes.

"I'm sure they'll work it out. Fighting is part of what makes them, well, them. I wouldn't be surprised if they're already back to snogging each other when we get back," Ginny said.

Harry didn't say anything else. He couldn't understand why he felt both happy and sad that Ron and Hermione were fighting. He also couldn't explain this rising wish that they would break up. Was he developing feelings for Hermione?

"No, I can't be," Harry thought, "Hermione's like a sister to me. Besides, Ron would kill me, not to mention Ginny, and I would probably be hated by all the Weasleys if I broke Ginny's heart and then took Ron's girl." Still, he couldn't help but remember the moment they shared at the Burrow, both crying on the other's shoulders, all the hours they spent together putting together lesson plans, and everything they had fought through and overcome in just the past year, not to mention the last eight.

Harry held Ginny's hand tighter, causing her to stop. She looked at him, thinking he wanted to say something to her. Instead, Harry leaned forward and kissed her deeply. When they finally came up for air, Ginny took Harry's arm in hers and led them back up to the castle.

"I love Ginny," Harry said to himself, "but I think I might love Hermione too."


	11. The Truth Comes Out

**Chapter 11: The Truth Comes Out**

By Tuesday, Ron and Hermione were speaking to each other again, though there remained an awkward tension between them. Harry was wrestling with his feelings for Ginny versus his feelings for Hermione but his thoughts still lingered on the Dursleys. He knew he would have to eventually tell his friends the truth. Hermione, especially, deserved to know that there were finally Aurors looking for her parents. Harry wasn't sure why he kept putting off the inevitable. He was coping with the loss of the Dursleys reasonable well. However, it was the knowledge that people were dying because of him that bothered Harry the most. Who was after him? What did they want? Who would they kill next? The questions cycled through Harry's mind over and over again but he could not answer them. He assumed the murderers were Death Eaters seeking revenge on Harry but the ones who would be powerful enough to both allude the entire Auror department, as well as commit such heinous acts, had been killed in the Battle of Hogwarts or captured and sent to Azkaban. Whoever they were, Harry was sure it wasn't anyone who was in Voldemort's innermost circle, but his gut also told him that these were very powerful and very dark wizards.

That evening, Ron, Harry, and Hermione made their way up to Professor McGongall's office for Transfiguration. Harry had managed to convince McGonagall to let Ron and Hermione also take the private class. She had resisted at first, but conceded when Harry said that he would learn better and feel less pressure if Ron and Hermione were there. They were currently working on human transfiguration. In their last lesson, Harry had managed to turn Ron's hair from red to purple, much to Ron's amusement. Hermione had changed the color of Harry's eyes and given him a thick moustache. Ron, on the other hand, had mispronounced his incantation and instead of giving Hermione shorter hair, hair over her entire body making her look more like a werewolf than a human. She didn't speak to him for two days.

When they arrived at McGonagall's office, she was sitting at her desk, writing with a rather large, black quill. Without looking up, she told them to take a seat and she would be with them in a minute. The three Gryffindors sat down and pulled parchment, quills, and ink bottles from their bags as they waiting for McGonagall to finish what she was doing and begin the evening's lesson. McGonagall continued to write for another few minutes before carefully folding the parchment and placing it in her desk. Then, she got up and walked over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat quietly.

"Before we start, I wanted to see how you three were doing. Miss Granger, had there been any news on your parents?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione, with a confused look said, "No, Professor. The Ministry hasn't sent anyone to begin looking yet, which isn't surprising considering the recent attacks."

"Mr. Potter didn't tell you that the Minister sent Aurors on Sunday to find your parents?" McGongall said, looking quizzically at Harry.

"What? No! Harry?" Hermione exclaimed in anger. "You know I've been worried about my parents! You know how long I've been waiting for the Minister to send Aurors after them! I can't believe this! I can't believe you!"

Hermione was standing now, her face red and tears were forming in her eyes. Harry sat in silent shock. He knew Hermione was concerned about her parents and missing them terribly and he knew she would not be happy when she found out he had not told her right away about the Aurors being sent but he never expected her to be so upset.

"Honestly, Harry. After everything we've been through, everything we've told each other, this… This is the one time you don't tell me something right away? How could you be so thick?"

Hermione reached down to grab her bag to hit Harry with it, but before she could, McGonagall stepped between them.

"Miss Granger, that is enough! Sit down!"

The tone in McGonagall's voice made Hermione freeze and then obediently sit down, still glaring at Harry. Satisfied that Hermione wasn't going to beat Harry, McGonagall turned towards him.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I'm not sure why you chose not to tell Miss Granger about her parents but I can only assume you have not said anything to Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley about what happened over the weekend. I will not force you to tell them but, if you wish, I am willing to postpone tonight's lesson so that you can explain to them certain recent events. Otherwise, I will start the lesson and will not be responsible if Miss Granger attempts to transfigure you into a rock so she can kick you."

Harry squirmed uneasily in his chair. This was not how he imagined telling Ron and Hermione about the Dursleys' death. Admittedly, he had not figured out how he would tell them but it certainly wasn't going to be here, with McGonagall looking on and Hermione ready to hex him. Harry knew he had no choice but tell his friends the truth and hope that they will forgive him. That Hermione will forgive him.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for not telling you about your parents right away. I should have and you have every right to be mad at me," Harry began, "but to explain why the Ministry is looking for your parents meant telling you something I-I just wasn't ready to talk about at the time."

Hermione's glare softened slightly. Ron kept looking back and forth at the two of them, while McGonagall leaned against her desk, silently watching.

"The truth is, Professor McGonagall came and woke up me up early Sunday morning because the attack on the Muggle family that was reported in the Prophet wasn't a random attack, which is why the name of the family wasn't released."

Harry paused a moment, wringing his hands anxiously. Images of the Dursleys passed through his mind and the guilt of their deaths washed over him. Hermione was no longer glaring at Harry but had that look she got when she was trying to figure something out. Taking a deep breath, Harry continued.

"The family that was murdered was… the Dursleys."

Hermione gave a small gasp and Ron's eyes widened in disbelief. McGonagall closed her eyes as soon as Harry said the Dursleys name but did not move.

"From what Kingsley could find out, four people entered the house and killed them. Three were hooded and one looked like a teenager. Kingsley thinks it is the same people who burned the Muggle village and that they are trying to get my attention. Probably wanting revenge. He's afraid they'll keep killing people who are connected to me until I leave Hogwarts to try and find them. That's why he sent Aurors after your parents, Hermione, to keep them safe. They've also increased the protections at the Burrow. I'm – I'm sorry I didn't tell you both. I wanted to be able to say that I had a plan for stopping whoever is attacking and that I could guarantee no one else would get hurt… or die… because of me. Too many already have…"

Harry fell silent as he tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. No, he had to be strong, even if he didn't have a plan, he had to show them that he was strong and in control. He had to show them that somehow he would fix this and no one would ever have to die for him again.

Silence followed. Harry sat, staring at his hands. Hermione stared at him, her mind trying to comprehend everything her best friend told him. Ron leaned back in his chair, looking glum. McGonagall stayed where she was, her eyes now open and filled with concern for trio. Hermione was the first one to speak. She reached over and grabbed Harry's hand, causing him to look up at her.

"This is why you avoided us on Sunday isn't it?"

Harry nodded and Hermione gripped his hand tighter.

"Harry, we'll figure this out together, just like we always have. You're not alone in this."

"Yeah, mate," Ron added.

Once again, Harry was reminded of how lucky he was to have such loyal friends. Suddenly, the unknown Death Eaters did not seem as big a threat to overcome as they had five minutes ago. For seven years Harry, Ron, and Hermione had overcome every challenge, every obstacle, every potential life-ending danger that had come their way. Harry knew that together, they would face overcome this one as well.

McGonagall watched her three favorite students carefully as they began to talk about the details of the attack and attackers, forgetting that McGonagall was even there. She couldn't believe how much they had grown in eight years or that they had managed to even survive. Despite her stern personality, McGonagall had a very caring and compassionate soul that was not always adequately expressed in her facial expression or tone of voice. The truth was, she loved her students very much, especially Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She would never admit to having "favorites" but those three held a special place in her heart.

"Achem," McGonagall coughed, reminding Harry, Ron, and Hermione of her existence. "I think it may be best to go ahead and let you three go for the evening but I expect you to read chapter 6 and write a summary of it for next week. Mr. Potter, if you would stay for a few minutes, I have something to discuss with you."

Hermione shot Harry a worried look that did not go unnoticed by McGonagall.

"Don't worry Miss Granger, it is not more bad news. Mr. Potter, I'm sure, will fill you and Mr. Weasley in on the main details later."

Ron and Hermione put away their things and left the room. Harry proceeded to gather his things as well, while McGonagall sat down behind her desk.

"What did you need to speak with me about, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter… Harry, I wanted to first let you know that your uncle's sister has set a date for the funeral. Should you wish to attend, the Ministry will provide you some escorts and you will, of course, also be excused from classes for the day. Though, I can understand if you would not want to attend," said McGonagall.

"Thank you, I know that you think it may be too dangerous for me to go but I think it is only proper if I do attend the funeral," Harry replied, "In the end, they were still my family."

"Please don't misunderstand me, Harry. Though there is some danger in going to the funeral, my belief that you might not want to attend was because of how they treated you all these years." Tears formed in McGonagall's eyes. "I was there the night Dumbledore left you with the Dursleys. I had been watched them that day and knew they were not the kindest of people. From what I have been told, they did not seem to care about your well-being in the least. If it wasn't for the blood magic protecting that home, I would have taken you in myself. I hope you can forgive me for not finding a better home for you to grow up in."

Harry was dumbstruck. He had not expected McGonagall to be tearing up, much less apologize for Harry having to live with the Dursleys.

"Professor, there is nothing you need to apologize for. I'll admit, pretty much every summer since coming to Hogwarts I have hated having to be at the Dursley's, but I do understand why Dumbledore wanted me to stay there. Even though Privet Drive was my physical home, Hogwarts – the students and the professors – have been my real family and my real home. Without this place, I never would have been able to defeat Voldemort."

McGonagall smiled. "Well said. You have turned into a very fine young man, Harry. I'm proud to have been a part, albeit a small part, in helping you grow, which brings me to the other issue I wanted to discuss."

Harry, sensing they may be talking for a while, pulled up a chair.

"Harry, I know that eventually, you are going to try and leave the castle to go after the people who murdered the Dursleys. Don't try and say you won't," McGonagall held up a hand as Harry tried to open his mouth to disagree, "we both know that you won't idly sit back while others are in danger. You're actions last year are proof enough that you can handle yourself and, as it is, you are also of age and are only at Hogwarts this year to get the N.E.W.T.s needed for Auror training. So, should you decide to go after the attackers, I won't stop you."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said, shaking his head, "I swore I just heard you say that you won't stop me if I try to find the Death Eaters."

"You heard me correctly, Potter. But, should you decide to leave, I have two requests. The first, you inform me of when you plan on leaving as far in advance as possible so I can make arrangements for your schooling. Second, you allow me to assist you. I may not be able to go with you, but as Headmistress I have some influence with the Ministry, should you wish to not have the Ministry know what you are doing, and I have many connections in the wizarding world who might be of service to you, for shelter and protection." McGonagall's voice dropped into a whisper, "I can't sit back this time and watch your body be brought back to the castle without knowing I did everything I could to make sure you stayed alive."

Harry thought back to the battle. McGonagall's scream echoed in his mind. It was a mixture of grief, disbelief, pain, and guilt.

"Professor, it is not your fault that I, well I guess I did technically die even though I wasn't dead when Hagrid carried me up to the castle. But there was nothing you could have done to stop it, you saved so many lives at the castle by just being there, fighting along side them. If I hadn't gone into the forest, hadn't let Voldemort cast the killing curse, we wouldn't have been able to win."

"Just promise me, Harry. Promise that you will tell me ahead of time when you are leaving and allow me to help, please," the usually stern, tight-lipped face was now contorted with worry and desperation. She had not told anyone that she had been constantly plagued by nightmares since the battle. The image of Harry's unmoving body being carried by Hagrid had woken her up in sweat and tears more than she cared to admit to herself. In that moment, she had felt, not the loss of a student, but the loss of a son.

Harry wanting to ease the Headmistress' anguish said, "I promise, just don't tell Mrs. Weasley or she's likely to kill us both."

McGonagall let a small laugh escape her lips, causing Harry to smile as well. However, she quickly resumed her controlled, tight-lipped form.

"Very well then, Mr. Potter. The funeral is Friday, I will arrange to have your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes covered and will inform your teachers that you will be absent that day. The Minister will send you a letter tomorrow informing you of what time your escorts will be arriving to the castle. Also, you are permitted to bring one other person with you. If you don't have any questions, you are free to return to the Gryffindor tower."

Harry nodded, thanked McGonagall, and left the room. He wasn't surprised to find Ron and Hermione waiting for him at the bottle of the staircase leading down from the Headmistress' office.

"What did McGonagall say?" Ron asked as they walked together.

"She told me the Dursley's funeral would be Friday. Ministry is going to provide some Aurors to accompany me and she's going to find someone to cover my teaching responsibilities," said Harry, leaving out that he was allowed to bring one person with him. "Then she made me promise that if we decide to leave the school to go looking for the Death Eaters, I have to tell her ahead of time and let her assist in any way that she can."

"What?" said Ron, incredulously, "She's giving us permission to leave and is willing to help us do it? If it wasn't McGonagall, I would think it was a trap."

"No, she means it. McGonagall's willing to let us leave as long as we let her help. She's got contacts that she thinks would be helpful to us. She said she knew that if we made up our minds to leave, she wouldn't be able to stop us anyway," Harry said.

"Well, that's true," Hermione chirped in, "remember 5th year? But, Harry, are you planning on leaving soon?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we have no plan and no information, other than what the Daily Prophet has told written and what Kingsley told me the other night. He is supposed to keep me updated but I'll see if I can get any information out of the Aurors who are escorting me on Friday. Truthfully, I'd rather not go looking for them if we don't have to. I mean, the Ministry is something we can trust now that Kingsley is in charge and people like Umbridge are gone."

"Aw, come on, Harry, where's your sense of adventure," joked Ron, before winching when Hermione hit his arm.

"We have enough to worry about without going off trying to find people that want to kill Harry! The N.E.W.T.s are only 7 months away!" Hermione said.

"There's the Hermione we know and love!" Harry laughed.

When they reached the Gryffindor Common Room, there wasn't a soul in sight. Ron yawned and said he was going to bed early. Harry decided to settle by the fireplace and get his homework done for his Friday classes. Plus, he needed to make sure he had an up-to-date lesson plan for whoever played the role of substitute. Hermione had followed Ron upstairs, but soon came back down, dressed in blue and white-stripped pajama pants and a white t-shirt, carrying her Charm's book, some parchment, ink, and a quill. She sat down on the end of the couch, closet to the arm chair Harry had curled up in, and started to flipping through the pages of the book, looking for the section on supersensory charms.

Harry put down his quill and watched Hermione for a few minutes. He was contemplating whether to ask her to accompany him to the Dursley's funeral. He knew that it would make more sense for him to ask Ginny, she was his girlfriend after all, but he didn't feel right asking her. Hermione was the only person Harry felt like he could show his vulnerable side, his weakness, and his guilt. She would, of course, tell him the Dursley's death was not his fault, that it wasn't weak to grieve or show emotion at their funeral, but she would also understand why he felt that way. She would patiently listen and not feel uncomfortable if tears formed in his eyes. That is just who Hermione was. Hermione had been his best friend for nearly eight years now, had fought alongside him, nearly died more than once, and still, she refused to leave him. If Harry was going to ask anyone to the funeral, it was Hermione.

"Hermione…" Harry began, setting his things on the ground.

"Hmm?" said Hermione, not looking up from her book.

"Um, listen. McGonagall told me that there would be enough Aurors escorting me that I could bring one other person along. You know, for emotional support or whatever."

Hermione looked at Harry now, giving him her full attention.

"I just wondered if, you know, you wouldn't mind going with me. I mean I'd ask Ron but I dunno if he'd want to be at another funeral so soon after Fred's and we both know how he is when it comes the emotional stuff," said Harry quickly.

Hermione cocked her head to one side and asked, "What about Ginny?"

Harry had expected Hermione to ask him that question. "I know it's kind of the same reason. You know, another funeral so shortly after Fred's..."

"Harry, you know Ginny cares about you, she'd want to be there for you," argued Hermione.

"I know. I know. I-I… The thing is, Hermione, I'm not good with this kind of stuff, you know I don't like showing my weaker side and, truthfully, you're the only person I feel like I can be 100% myself, good and bad, strong and weak…" Harry's voiced trailed off.

Hermione stayed quiet for a few minutes, watching Harry carefully, her mind trying to find the right words to say. The things Harry was saying about her should be how he felt about Ginny. Those were things you said about the person you were dating. Though, Hermione conceding to herself, it could also apply to best friends. Yet, Hermione remembered the jealous looks she got from Ginny when she and Harry had sat the kitchen table working on lesson plans. Hermione loved Ginny like a sister and considered her a close friend. She didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize their friendship, or Harry and Ginny's relationship.

"Harry, I still think you should at least ask Ginny." Hermione thought she saw a look of disappointment in Harry's eyes. "Then if she can't go or doesn't want to, though I can't imagine why she wouldn't want to, I would be glad to go with you."

Harry tried to keep a straight face as he nodded in agreement. He knew Hermione was right, as always. Ginny would have been furious if he had not at least asked her if she wanted to come. Still, Harry found himself staring at Hermione, who had turned her attention back to her book, and fighting the urge to beg her to come with him.

As it turned out, Ginny could not go with Harry. She had a Potions test that day and, although Ginny didn't tell Harry this, she knew that Hermione would be the better person to go. The truth was, the person who came back to her after the battle was not the person she had fallen in love with. Ginny could feel the distance between them grow everyday and no matter how many hours they spent together, they just didn't seem to be in sync. She wasn't sure exactly when, but Ginny had a distinct feeling in her heart that their relationship would be ending soon.


	12. The Funeral

**Chapter 12: The Funeral**

"Ready, Harry?" Hermione called up the stairs.

"Be right down," replied Harry, glancing at himself in the mirror once more and tightened his tie.

Harry was wearing a traditional black suit with a black tie, one he had purchased for the numerous funerals he had to attend over the summer. The Auror escorts were set to arrive at ten in the entrance to Hogwarts by portkey. Harry was glad Hermione was able to go with him and a bit surprised that Ginny had been so calm about it, though there was an odd sadness in her eyes that wasn't about the funeral.

"Harry! We're going to be late!"

Harry grabbed his wand off his bed, placed it in a pocket inside his suit jacket, and hurried down the stairs. Hermione stood by the portrait hole, tapping her foot impatiently. She was a wearing a strapless black dress that stopped just below her knees with a beautiful black shawl draped across her shoulders. Her usually bushy hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Harry had not been this in awe of her appearance since the Yule Ball.

"You look… amazing, Hermione," said Harry.

"Oh stop it, Harry," blushed Hermione. "Come on, let's head downstairs."

Hermione and Harry made their way quickly down to the entrance. They turned the corner towards the door just as Kingsley, in a Muggle suit, and a short, blonde woman in a black Muggle pantsuit, appeared clutching a rusty look pot.

"Minister? You didn't tell me that you were coming," said Harry, reaching forward to shake Kingsley's hand.

"Please, Harry, call me Kingsley," Kingsley's strong voice echoed in the entrance. "As it turned out, my morning meeting was cancelled and couldn't pass up on an excuse to leave the office."

Harry and Hermione laughed.

"Oh, Harry, Hermione, this is Juniper Poling," said Kingsley.

"Pleased to meet you both, though I am sorry it had to be under such circumstances," Juniper replied.

"We're pleased to meet you as well," Hermione replied.

Kingsley looked at his watched and motioned for Harry and Hermione to grab hold of the pot.

"The portkey will activate in a minute and transport us to a small wooded area across the street from the church," Kingsley quickly explained. "Harry, given the, uh, situation surrounding your uncle, aunt, and cousin's deaths, I think it would be wiser for us to sit in the back of the church."

Harry knew that Kingsley was worried the Death Eater's might be hiding in the crowd at the funeral or show up, believing Harry would be there. He wasn't too disappointed to be sitting in the back, though. What little interaction he had his relatives on uncle's side had not been pleasant. Harry couldn't help but smile when he thought back to the incident with Aunt Marge before his third year at Hogwarts. The smile quickly vanished when he realized she would probably not be pleased to see him at the funeral. Harry began to wonder if attending the funeral was a good idea.

"No, no, sitting in the back is fine," Harry replied. "It's better actually. Most of Uncle Vernon's family are not too … fond … of me."

Kingsley nodded, remembering his own encounters with the Dudleys. It wasn't hard to believe that the rest of the family would be the same. "I have Aurors monitoring the outside of the church from different areas. Should an attack happen, I want you and Hermione to Apparate to the Burrow right away. We'll take care of the attackers. I do not want you two fighting, do you understand?"

Harry was not pleased to hear this but knew better than to argue with Kingsley. He noticed Hermione did not look happy at the thought of fighting or running away.

"We promise," said Harry. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Alright, make sure you've got a hold of the portkey… Ready … 3, 2, and 1," Juniper counted down and suddenly Harry felt his entire body being pulled, twisted, whirled and then dumped violently onto the ground. Standing with a groan, Harry dusted off his suit and looked around. Tall oak trees surrounded them. Kingsley, Juniper, and Hermione walked over to him. Harry nodded that he was ready and they casually walked out of the trees and crossed the street towards the church.

It was a small church with walls of grey, aged stone, and a cast iron steeple. The wooden doors at the entrance of the church reminded Harry of the doors to the Great Hall, only on a smaller scale. As they approached the church, Harry felt his stomach begin to churn. Kingsley held the door open as Harry and Hermione walked inside. The sanctuary was filled with mostly family members, most of whom Harry did not recognize. He also spotted a few men from his uncle's work who had dined with the Dursleys on occasion. Then Harry looked towards the front of the church and he let out a small gasp. The three coffins almost appeared to form a barrier between the altar and the congregation. To the left was a rather wide mahogany coffin that Harry knew must hold Uncle Vernon. In the middle was a slightly smaller oak coffin that was most likely Dudley's. Finally, a thin, white oak coffin was to the far right holding the body of Aunt Petunia. Harry stood in the back of the church, frozen, his mind unable to grasp the reality of the situation. The Dursleys were dead, killed by the very thing they had always fear and despised most in the world; the thing they had tried to stay as far away from as possible; the thing that had caused them to leave Number Four Privet Drive. Magic. Magic, which had been Harry's savior time and time again over the years, was the reason Harry was now staring at three coffins containing the remains of the people who had taken him in after his parents had been murdered. Suddenly, Harry realized that although the Dursleys had always treated him like the lowliest creature imaginable, they still took him in, clothed him, fed him, and kept him alive. Harry doubted they ever loved him, but they still took him in, and risked their lives, whether they knew it or not, by keeping him there. Tears silently rolled down Harry's cheeks as his gaze remained transfixed on the coffins. Guilt and grief wrapped themselves tightly around his chest, making it hard to breathe. He barely noticed when Hermione gently grabbed his hand and led him into the back pew.

"Come on, Harry," she whispered softly in his ear, "we'll get through this together."

Juniper sat beside Hermione, who was still holding Harry's hand, and Kingsley slid in beside Harry. The service was short but to Harry it felt like a lifetime. He did not hear much of what was sad. Instead, his eyes never left the front and his mind whirled with anger, fear, grief, and a deep desire to go out and find the murderous bastards who destroyed the final blood connection he had to his mother. Hermione, on the other hand, never took her eyes away from Harry and kept a close grip on his hand. She could see the pain in her best friend's eyes and knew that he was, once again, blaming himself for the Dursley's deaths. For every tear that rolled down Harry's cheek, reflecting his grief and anger, a tear rolled down Hermione's cheek, reflecting her anguish at not being able to comfort Harry. It was taking all she had not to pull Harry into a tight embrace.

When the service ended, Kingsley quickly motioned that they needed to leave. He knew Harry was in no condition to deal with any angry confrontations with one of the mourning Dursleys. Hermione helped Harry up and guided him out of the church. Harry numbly followed Kingsley. Right now, all he wanted was to get away from this place and find somewhere silent to think. Harry no longer felt like he was just mourning the deaths of the Dursleys but was instead mourning all of the deaths he had experienced over the years. His parents. Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore. Mad Eye. Snape. Remus and Tonks. Fred. It was more than he could bear to think about and yet their images were seared into his mind's eye.

"Hermione. Harry," Kingsley said to them once they were back into the grove of trees, "The portkey will take you back to Hogwarts once you touch it. Juniper and I will head back to the Ministry once you've gone."

Hermione nodded but Harry was barely even registering where they were. Kingsley reached over and grabbed Harry firmly on the shoulders. Harry looked up and focused on Kingsley's face.

"Harry, I am truly sorry for your loss. Grieve. Be angry. But please, I beg you, do not leave Hogwarts to look for the Dursley's murderers. Now is the time for you to mourn and lean on your friends. It is not a time for fighting. There are many people who care for you Harry and need you. I promise, if I find out anything about these people, I will inform you first, but for now, I need you to trust me and trust the Ministry."

Harry tried to respond but his mouth was dry and his throat tight. He managed a jerky nod and conveyed his promise with his eyes.

Kingsley gave Harry a sad smile and then turned to Hermione, "Take care of him, Hermione. He will need you now more than ever. If anyone can keep him in line, it will be you."

"I will, sir. Don't worry," Hermione promised, giving Harry's hand a light squeeze. "Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded once again. Together, they bent down and grabbed the rusty pot at the same time. After another bout of twisting and turning, Harry and Hermione found themselves standing at the entrance of Hogwarts. Harry sighed deeply.

"What do you want to do, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Huh?" Harry asked quizzically, finally finding his voice. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't plan on attending any classes today and I assume you aren't planning on going to class or teaching either. And I imagine that you don't want to be around loads of people right now. So, what do you want to do? Go to our office? Walk around the grounds? You probably want to go somewhere quiet where you won't be disturbed so you can think. Your office, then?"

Harry looked at Hermione in amazement. She knew him perfectly.

"My office is actually exactly where I was thinking of going," Harry said. "And despite what Kingsley said, Hermione, don't feel like you need to babysit me. You've got loads of better things to do."

"Oh shut it, Harry. I swear, you've got to have the thickest head in all of Britain. You even beat out Ron at times. You're my best friend and I'm not going to leave you to handle this on your own. You need me, Harry and its not a sign of weakness to need someone," Hermione replied adamantly. She wasn't going to let Harry push her away.

Harry, relieved that Hermione wanted to stay with him, squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione blushed. "Anytime, Harry. If we want to avoid the crowds between classes, we should probably head to your office now."

They reached the office and had just closed the door when the bell rang. Hermione locked the door and cast a silencing charm so that they would have some privacy. Harry loosened his tie and tossed his suit jacket on the back of his chair, before sitting down unceremoniously. Hermione brought her chair from behind her desk and sat it near Harry's.

"Talk to me, Harry," she said.

Harry, caught off guard by Hermione's blunt request, ran his hands through his hair.

"I dunno what to say. I'm not really feeling anything different from what I felt before. It's just more intense now. You'd think I'd be used to it after the battle. We lost so many friends, so many people we loved. But… But the loss never really leaves you… And every time another person dies, you feel the loss of all the other people who died before them… I-I-I just wish I could tell all of them I'm sorry… I'm sorry they died because of me."

This time, Hermione did not hold back. Immediately, she pulled Harry into a tight embrace and said, "Harry, this is not your fault. I know I've told you that a thousand times but its true. I wish – I wish with everything I have that I could make all your pain go away. I wish I could bring everyone back. I wish I could give you happiness and peace but all I can say is this. Harry Potter, you are the strongest, most courageous, and loving man I have ever met. You saved my life on so many occasions and have been the best friend I could ask for. I know it is hard right now. I know everything hurts. But eventually, it will lessen and, you're right, the loss never really leaves you, but we must use the feeling of loss as a reminder for us to recall the good times with those who have died… Oh Harry, I'm sorry. I'm rambling again."

"No, no Hermione, its okay. You're saying what I needed to hear." Harry could feel Hermione's tears on his neck. He hated that he was making her cry but, then again, he was crying too. Just like at the Burrow, the two friends held each other silently, each feeling a strange sense of comfort and peace in their embrace that they did not feel with their respective boyfriend and girlfriend. The serene moment quickly ended when Harry's stomach gave a loud gurgling rumble of hunger. Laughing, Hermione pulled away and said she would run to the kitchen and get them something to eat.

After Hermione left, Harry sat back in his chair and thought about what had just happened. Though his heart was still in pain, it was also feeling euphoric at the memory of his embrace with Hermione. In fact, Harry found his pulse quickening with just the thought of Hermione. Every moment with her, every small touch, felt right. He tried to convince himself that he loved Ginny using the same agreement that he had used for years – that he loved Hermione like a sister. Yet, he couldn't deny that he and Ginny had been drifting apart for a while now. He had a feeling Ginny realized that too as well.

The longer Harry thought about his relationship with Ginny and Hermione over the last 6 months, the more he realized that it was Hermione who had his heart and soul. She was the woman he loved and the one he wanted to be with. He still cared a great deal for Ginny but it was clear to him now that both of them had changed during the events of last year. It was not a bad thing. It was just the reality of being in a war. Sadly, Harry also knew that his epiphany of his love of Hermione was a bit pointless. She was with Ron and even if they were to break up, Harry wasn't sure that Ron would ever forgive him if he broke up with Ginny and started dating Hermione.

Harry's pondering was interrupted when Hermione reappeared carrying a basket. She had changed out of her dress and was now wearing jeans and a light blue blouse.

"Sorry it took me so long. I had to get out of those heels," said Hermione. Placing the basket on Harry's desk, she opened it and began pulling at some sandwiches and two bottles of butterbeer.

"Don't blame you," Harry said with a chuckle. He reached over and took a drink from one of the butterbeers. "Never understood how girls could walk around in those things." Hermione laughed. Harry had to concentrate to not stare at her. Even in Muggle clothes, Hermione still looked stunning. Her bun was not as tight as it had been this morning, and a few stray hairs had fallen, framing her face.

Hermione grabbed one of the sandwiches and started eating. "Is Harry staring at me?" she thought to herself. No, it wasn't possible. Harry was probably just in deep thought again. Hermione noticed her heart fluttered when she considered the possibility that Harry _was _staring at her. She enjoyed being with him, though she would have rather it not be under the current circumstances. It was so much easier for her to talk to Harry. He actually listened to her and didn't just dismiss her worries, like Ron often did. "No," she thought, "I love Ron. I love Harry too but it can't be in the same way… Can't it?"

For the rest of the day, Harry and Hermione stayed in their office talking about everything from the Dursleys to next weeks Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons to Quidditch to the Death Eaters. Despite the tears and painful memories, Harry felt like a new person when they finally left the office to get dinner in the Great Hall. He had been completely honest with Hermione about everything, his fears, his anger, his grief. He felt like he was walking taller now, that 18 years worth of emotional baggage had been miraculously lifted from his shoulder and he could finally see past the tragedies of his life and into the future. A future, he secretly wished, that would include Hermione.


	13. Break Ups and Make Ups

**Chapter 13: Break Ups and Make Ups**

The rest of term passed by with few incidents. Gryffindor won its second Quidditch game thanks to Ron's superb goal keeping, Ginny scoring five goals, and Harry barely grasping the snitch at the last second from the Hufflepuff's Seeker. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all beginning to feel the pressure of 7th year and the N.E.W.T.s that were quickly approaching. On top of that, Harry had the additional stress of trying to prepare his 5th years for their O.W.L.s. They were all looking forward to Christmas break as much as they were glad that there hadn't been any other killings by the mysterious Death Eaters.

A week before Christmas break, Harry and Ginny found themselves finally admitting to the distance they felt growing between them on a Saturday morning walk through the grounds.

"Ginny," Harry said, pain clearly evident in his voice.

"Harry," Ginny replied, her heart already knowing what was about to happen.

"Listen," Harry said, halting next to the lake, "I think we need to talk about… us…"

Ginny sighed. She had been expecting this for a while. In a way, she was grateful that Harry was the one to bring it up first. "What about… us?" she asked.

Harry sighed as well, not wanting to hurt Ginny but struggling to be as honest as he could be, without professing that he was truly in love with Hermione. "I – I think we both know that things haven't really turned out the way we expected, as far as our relationships goes… Especially after the war ended," he said slowly. "It changed us… All of us… We're not the people we were before everything went to hell."

Harry paused, waiting for Ginny to say something, anything, in reply. Ginny knew that Harry was waiting on her, before he said anything else. Thinking back, she knew that what he had said was true. They had changed. All of them. While Harry was off scouring the countryside for horcruxes with Hermione and Ron, Ginny had fought alongside Neville, Luna and so many others against the Carrows. She had found her Gryffindor courage and came to realize that she could stand on her own against evil. She didn't need a hero anymore. She was one.

"Harry," Ginny began, "you're right. The war did change us. All of us. You have to know I still care about you but… I don't idolize you like I did when I was a kid. You are a hero, there is no denying that but… I don't see you as that perfect man, that I did when I was a first year. And you shouldn't feel like you need to be," she quickly added. "Harry, I love you as a brother but I don't think I'm _in _love with you. To be honest, I think I was in love with the legend more so than the actual person…" Ginny trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

Her words didn't surprise Harry. He knew that she had never really loved him, just the ideal image of him. The "Chosen One." The "Boy Who Lived." The "Savior of the Wizarding World." She was never in love with Harry. Simple, ordinary, Harry Potter, with all his faults and scars and wounds and issues. She never really knew that Harry, or perhaps she never really accepted that Harry, until now. Until Harry finally showed that he was, in the end, truly human, vulnerable, hurting, grieving, and, at times, weak. That was the not the man Ginny loved but it was the man she was dating.

They did not stay by the lakeshore much longer. Though they still cared for each other, they knew that they did not love each other and would not love each other, at least not as anything more than friends. So, with some brief conversation and a short hug, they parted ways. Ginny walked to the Quidditch Pitch and Harry walked to his office. Each mourned the loss of their relationship but took comfort in the knowledge that it was the right decision and took joy in the fact that they still could remain good friends. However, Harry still had to deal with Ron's reaction to the breakup...

"What do you mean you 'broke up'" Ron exclaimed loudly in the Common Room later that day. "How could you break up with my little sister? Not good enough for the "Great" Harry Potter, I suppose?"

"Ron, it's not like that at all!" Harry shouted back, angry boiling inside. "We both agreed upon it. We've been drifting apart for months now! You can ask her yourself!"

"Fine, I will then!" Ron yelled, causing other Gryffindors to scamper down from the dormitories to see what the fight was about.

"Face it, Ron, we all changed after the war! Ginny and I weren't the same. We just couldn't make it work. I'm sorry, you know I would never do anything to hurt her, no matter what," Harry tried to reason with Ron.

"Whatever," Ron snorted, "You better hope her story is the same as yours, or I swear I will kick your arse from here to the Quidditch Pitch." And with that, Ron stormed out the portrait hole.

Harry stood in shock, unsure of whether to go after Ron and try to mend things or simply leave him alone. He could feel the stares of his fellow Gryffindors from the stairwell leading to the dorms on the back of his neck. Deciding it would be easier to roam the hallways than explain the fight that just happened, Harry quickly left and tried to go the opposite direction of Ron. In the end, Harry found himself hiding in his office, trying to distract himself from his fight with Ron by grading papers. He knew that Ron would not have reacted well to him breaking up with Ginny but he had not expected Ron to explode like that, especially since Harry and Ginny had mutually agreed to the breakup. They were still friends and Harry realized that it would be Ginny that he would soon refer to as having feelings for like a sister when questioned about the breakup.

One terrible thought continued to plague Harry as he graded the last of the 5th year papers. Did Ron suspect that Harry had feelings for Hermione? Was his anger at the breakup really fear that Harry would be focusing on trying to steal Hermione? Harry was nearly certain that Ron had no idea the depth of Harry's feelings for Hermione. Ron was Harry's best mate, but he also knew that Ron wasn't always the quickest to pick on obvious hints, much less subtle ones. Though Harry's love for Hermione was growing everyday, he had no intentions of trying to purposefully break she and Ron up. He could never do that to his best and first friend he ever had at Hogwarts.

Harry set his quill down and leaned back, running his ink stained hands through his black hair. With a frustrated sigh, he stood up and scanned his bookshelf, as though a book on how to make Ron less angry at him would magically appear. When it didn't appear, he sat back down, wondering if it he would be able to slip into the dormitory, grab some of his homework, and slip back out before getting interrogated by fellow Gryffindors on the fight and the breakup, which he was sure they all had heard about by now.

A knock on the door brought Harry back to the present.

"Come in," Harry called out.

The door slowly opened and Harry was surprised to see Hermione walk in.

"What did you knock for?" he asked. "This is your office too."

"I know but I just saw Ron in the hallway. He told me you and Ginny broke up. I figured you were probably in here and wanted to see if you were okay," Hermione replied, worry etched in her eyes.

"Oh," Harry said, looking past Hermione at the wall, "yeah, it was mutual break-up. I – we both realized that we weren't the same people. The war – I can't believe how many times I've said this today – the war changed us. Ginny realized I wasn't the legendary hero she fell in love with and that she really didn't need a hero anymore. And she doesn't. Ginny is an amazing strong and brilliant woman. She was before but the war made her even more so."

Harry paused a moment before continuing, "But we're both different. I changed too and, for better or worse, the person I'm looking for isn't who Ginny is now. In a way, it is kind of a relief that we both changed into a person the other couldn't be in love with. The breakup was completely amicable, we're both still friends, and the only love we feel towards each other is the love you feel towards a sibling. Though trying to convince Ron of that proved a bit more difficult than I anticipated."

"Yeah, the way he was going on in the corridor, it sounded like you ripped Ginny's heart out and spat on it," Hermione said, remembering her encounter with Ron. "Hopefully he finds Ginny soon before the whole school thinks you're a crusher of hearts, Harry Potter."

Harry laughed, "Great, another title!"

Hermione gave a short chuckle before her face turned to a serious expression, "But really, Harry, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I know once Ginny talks to Ron, he'll calm down and come apologize," Harry replied.

Hermione glared, "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"I know," Harry whispered sadly.

Hermione's face softened. "It wasn't mutual was it?"

"No, no it was," he said, "in fact I actually was the one who started the conversation and if I'm completely honest, I was the one who started pulling away from the relationship first."

"Then what's bothering you? And don't lie to me, Harry, I know something's wrong," Hermione said, crossing her arms her chest, indicating she wasn't leaving until he told her everything.

Harry sighed, he knew he wasn't going to get out of this conversation. "Well, I guess it was something Ginny said that's been on my mind. We were talking about how we've both changed, well how everyone has changed after the war. She mentioned how before the war, I was always this hero she idolized, like there was no wrong that I could do. After the war, she realized she was 'in love with the legend more so than the actual person.' Now I just wonder if the legendary Harry Potter is the person someone can be in love with, not the weak, scarred, imperfect Harry Potter."

Harry looked down at hands, not willing to admit that what he really wondered is whether Hermione could be in love with the weak, scarred, imperfect Harry Potter.

Hermione watched Harry quietly, trying to find the right words to say. She really wanted to tell him that Ginny was an idiot to not be madly in love with the weak, scarred, and imperfect Harry Potter. That was the true Harry Potter. That was the legendary Harry Potter. That was the Harry Potter she was falling in love with, if she would admit it to herself.

"Harry," Hermione began, "first off, you are the strongest person I know. Your weaknesses, scars, and imperfections are what make you strong, make you admirable, and make you, you. To love the "legendary, perfect Harry Potter" is not real love. That would be too easy. Real love embraces all that we are, the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly. People can't be in love with the legend, only infatuated. Harry, I promise you, there will be someone who will be in love with you for who you are, simply Harry Potter. No titles. No legends. Just Harry James Potter."

Tears were running down Hermione's cheeks now and Harry was struggling to keep his in check. Her words stirred something very deep inside of him. He knew it was time for him to tell her the truth. Harry was about to open his mouth to confess to Hermione his true feelings when there was another knock on the door.

Startled, Harry said, "Come in?"

Harry's heart dropped when Ron came bounding in, with Ginny in tow. Hermione quickly wiped her tears from her face before Ron or Ginny noticed. Harry stood up, confusion hiding the frustration he was feeling.

"Harry, mate, Ginny told me what happened. I guess you weren't lying after all," Ron said. "Which is good because if you were I would have beat the living daylights out of you."

Ginny punched Ron in the arm and glared at him. "Oh come off it, Ron. I don't need all the boys in the school afraid to date me because my brother might beat them up."

Harry and Hermione laughed as Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Don't you have something else you need to say to Harry?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. It's not that I don't trust you but she's my sister, you know. I have a hard time thinking straight when it involves her," Ron said.

"When do you ever think straight?" Harry joked before reaching out his hand, "We square?"

Ron clasped Harry's hand, "Yup."

"Alright, now that the boys have become friends again, let's go get some dinner. I'm famished," Ginny said.

As they headed out the door, Harry and Hermione briefly locked eyes, both wishing the other could hear the thought in their mind.

_I love you_.


	14. Fidelius Charm

**Chapter 14: Christmas Miracles**

The window of the Hogwarts Express was cold against Harry's head as he woke up from a brief nap. Looking around, he saw that Ron and Hermione were still asleep. Ginny must have gone off to see Neville and Luna. Harry stretched silently and gazed out at the rolling countryside. A quick look at his watch showed that there was still plenty of time before reaching King's Cross. Not wanting to wake his friends, Harry relaxed in his seat and tried to focus on the present. His dreams, as of late, kept going back to everything that happened around Christmas last year. The dreams involving the night at Godric's Hollow were particularly disturbing. Though his scar never hurt, Harry could never manage to completely shake free of the nightmares. In fact, they seemed to be getting worse as the year progressed, not that Harry would dare mention that to anyone, especially Hermione.

"Things will be fine. I am going to see Teddy, work on fixing up Grimmauld Place, and eat a ton of Mrs. Weasley's cooking," Harry thought to himself. "No murders. No killer snakes. No horcruxes. No freezing nights in a tent."

Harry smiled when he thought of seeing Teddy Lupin, his godchild. Teddy was eight months old now and from the pictures that Andromeda had been sending, it appears Teddy is favoring a turquoise blue for his hair color. Harry had not told anyone yet, but his plan to clean up Grimmauld Place was not just so that he could live there after graduating from Hogwarts but so that it would be fit for Teddy. Andromeda's hope was that eventually Harry could take full custody of Teddy, something that Harry was hoping for as well. It wasn't that Andromeda was unfit to care for Teddy, but she was getting along in age and she also knew that Harry and Teddy would be able to bond in a way she and Teddy never could. After all, who would be better than Harry to know the pain of losing both parents at so young an age.

The only problem now was that Harry and Ginny had broken up. In her last letter, Andromeda was sympathetic towards Harry and the break up. However, she also expressed worry that Harry wouldn't be able to handle raising Teddy alone. At first Harry had been upset at the accusation that he needed someone to help him raise his godson, especially since he had known plenty of muggles who were raised by a single parent. Then he remembered that from Andromeda's perspective, Harry was an 18-year-old boy who had zero experience raising children.

"I guess I'll just have to do my best to prove to her that I can be a responsible godfather by making Grimmauld Place safe for Teddy and come up with a plan for raising Teddy so Andromeda knows that I am taking this seriously," Harry thought determinedly.

As he began making a checklist in his head of the things that will need to be done at Grimmauld Place, Ron woke up yawning.

"Good nap?" Harry asked in a whisper, so as not to wake the still sleeping Hermione.

"Not bad. Hope the trolley comes by soon, I'm starved," Ron whispered back, glancing over at Hermione. "I forget how cute she is when she sleeps."

Unsure of what to say, Harry simply nodded and looked out the window to keep Ron from seeing the jealous look he was sure was plastered on his face.

"Well, I think I'm going to go and see if I can find the trolley. Want me to grab you anything?" Ron asked.

"I'm good, thanks. You'll probably want to get Hermione some pumpkin juice. She's always thirsty when she wakes up," Harry said.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Last year. Every time she woke up in the tent, she would go get a drink of water," Harry replied coolly.

"Huh," said Ron, "I never noticed. Learn something new everyday, I suppose. "

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said, a bit annoyed that he seemed to know more about Hermione than her boyfriend.

Ron, oblivious to Harry's annoyance, quietly opened the door to the compartment and slipped out without waking Hermione. Harry sighed deeply and pulled a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill from his bag. Careful to keep the ink bottle between his legs so that it wouldn't spill as the train moved, he started making a list of the dates he would be at the Weasley's, Grimmauld Place, and Andromeda's. Then under each section of dates, he listed the things he needed to remember for each of the places. For the Weasley's, he still needed to wrap the Christmas presents for each of the Weasley clan, plus Hermione, who was spending the holiday at the Weasley's, since there was still no sign of her parents, according to the Ministry. He and Hermione were also going to take some time at the Weasley's to revise their lesson plans for the spring. For Andromeda's, Harry needed to remember to bring Teddy and Andromeda's presents, plus find a moment to sit with Andromeda and have a heart to heart talk about his ability to raise Teddy. Grimmauld Place had the longest list. Harry listed all of the artifacts, spells, and curses that still needed to be taken care of, as well as a reminder to get a Christmas present for Kreacher, and things he needed to buy for Teddy's room. Satisfied, though a bit overwhelmed, with the lists, Harry rolled up the parchment and placed it, his ink and quill back in his bag.

A few minutes later, the compartment door opened and Ron entered with his arm full of various sweets and treats and three bottles of pumpkin juice. Tossing a bottle to Harry, Ron plopped down in the seat next to Hermione, causing her to wake up.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Ron said with his mouth stuff with a chocolate frog.

"It's okay," Hermione said sleepily. "Do you ever not talk with your mouth full?"

Ron swallowed and said excitedly, "Oh, here, I got you a pumpkin juice. I know you're usually thirsty when you wake up."

Harry did his best not to glare at Ron, as Hermione smiled and took to the bottle from Ron.

"Oh Ron, that's so sweet. I can't believe you knew that. Thank you!" Hermione said, giving Ron a quick kiss on the cheek. Ron blushed as Harry went back to staring out the window, trying desperately to keep his jealousy in check.

"'Ello everyone," said Neville, who slid open the compartment door and sat down next to Harry. Luna and Ginny followed him in.

"Hey Neville!" Harry said, glad to focus on something other than Ron and Hermione. "How are you?"

"Doing alright, I suppose. Oi, Ron, I was suppose to tell you, the other prefects are looking for you. I think you're suppose to be doing a patrol or something," Neville said.

"Bloody prefect duties," Ron muttered, standing up and reaching into his bag for his prefect badge.

"Parvati is waiting for you in the first car," Neville added.

Ron nodded. "At least they didn't replace Hermione with Fay Dunbar. Parvati is much prettier."

"Ron!" Luna whispered, "Hermione's right here."

"What? Hermione would agree that Parvati is prettier than Fay. Right, 'Mion?" Ron said, confused as to what was wrong.

Hermione jerkily nodded, avoiding eye contact with Ron. Neville opened his mouth to say something but Hermione quietly shook her head at him, signaling it wasn't worth talking about anymore. Ron, still oblivious to what had happened, headed out of the compartment without another word. Harry shook his head in disbelief at how thick Ron could be.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "Count on my boyfriend to only be concerned with how a girl looks."

An uncomfortable silence followed, until Luna pulled out the latest edition of the Quibbler and asked if anyone wanted a copy. Soon laughter filled the compartment and all thoughts of Ron's senseless comment were forgotten. Ron didn't reappear in the compartment until the train was nearly to King's Cross.

"Where've you been?" Harry asked innocently.

"What's it matter?" Ron snapped. "I had prefect duties."

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, "was just curious. Usually doesn't take you that long to do your rounds."

"Yeah, well," Ron stammered, "had to break up a couple of fights and… and… You know, make sure people were behaving."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, wondering what had gotten into Ron. Harry knew Ron wasn't telling the complete truth but decided not to press the issue. However, based on the look Hermione was giving Ron, Harry knew she was going to be questioning him heavily later tonight.

In an attempt to break up the uncomfortable silence that followed Ron's last comment, Neville suggested that they start getting their stuff ready, since they would be arriving at King's Cross in ten minutes. Everyone agreed, perhaps a little too wholeheartedly, and the compartment was filled with a flurry of movement. Finally arriving at King's Cross, everyone said their respective goodbye's. Neville and Luna headed off to find their families as Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione headed over to where Molly Weasley was waiting with Arthur and Kingsley.

"Minister? Not that it isn't great to see you but what are you doing here?" Harry asked, as they approached the three adults.

"Good to see you looking well, Harry. I'm going to be escorting you to Grimmauld Place and, er, I have another matter I need to discuss with you in private before we leave here," Kingsley said.

Harry, looking a bit confused at Kingsley's last remark, merely nodding and walked over to secluded area of the platform as Mrs. Weasley embraced her two youngest children and loudly exclaimed that they were much too thin. Harry shook his head with a smile before turning back to Kingsley.

"So what did you need to talk with me about?" he asked with concern.

Kingsley, sensing the worry building up in Harry, said, "It's nothing to worry about Harry but considering the attacks on your family, as well as other muggles, we thought it might be prudent to recast the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Brilliant, I'd actually been thinking about that for a while now, especially if I'm going to be eventually bringing Teddy there."

Kingsley smiled, "Excellent. We'll perform the charm when we reach Grimmauld tonight but first I need to know, who do you want to be your Secret Keeper? Remember, it needs to be someone you completely trust with your life… and also Teddy Lupin's life."

"I know the exact person," Harry replied without a moment's hesitation. "Hermione."

Chuckling knowingly, Kingsley responded, "A most excellent choice. We'll need to bring Hermione along with us then… Harry, I know you'll be giving permission for Hermione to give the location to the Weasley's but I think it would be safe to not give anything away here on the platform. I'm going to pretend and tell the Weasley's that I need to take Hermione to the Ministry to discuss some things regarding her parents and that I'll bring her to the Burrow later tonight. Can you play along?"

Harry nodded in agreement and the two walked back over to the Weasley clan and Hermione.

"Hermione," Kingsley said, "if you don't mind, I'd like for you to come with Harry and I. After I drop Harry off, I wanted us to go to the Ministry to discuss some things regarding your parents – nothing is wrong – but we're just trying to gather some more information that might help us find them."

"Arthur," he said, turning to the Weasley patriarch, "I'll bring Hermione to the Burrow later tonight, if that is alright?"

"Of course," Mr. Weasley replied. "You'll be alright, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione said sheepishly, "anything I can do to help with the search for my parents."

And with that, everyone headed towards the brickwall separating the magical platform from the muggle one. After going through the barrier the Weasely's waved goodbye as Harry, Hermione, and Kingsley headed towards a very slick looking black sedan. Anticipating Harry and Hermione's question, Kingsley said, "When I was with the muggle prime minister, I grew fond of the muggle cars. They can be quite useful, you know."

Harry and Hermione nodded as they loaded their school trunks into the trunk of the car and, without thinking, both hopped into the backseat, leaving Kingsley alone in the front. Once they were on the highway, Kingsley filled Hermione in on what was actually happening.

"Of course I will be the Secret Keeper! It would be an honor!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, Harry, I can't believe you trust me that much. Thank you!"

Harry blushed, "Hermione, you've saved my life more times than I can count. There's no one I trust more in this world."

"Hermione, I do hope you accept my deepest apologies for using your parents as a pretense for taking you with us. It was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't raise any suspicion from the Weasley's or anyone on the platform who might see you leaving with us," Kingsley said remorsefully. "But be assured, we are still looking."

"I understand, Minister. I know you've had your hands full with the attacks on muggles," Hermione replied quietly, tears welling up in her eyes.

Harry reached over and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Hermione looked at him and smiled. "I can always count on Harry to be there for me when I need it," she thought to herself.

For the rest of the drive the Grimmauld, they filled Kingsley in on their first semester of teaching. Kingsley couldn't help but notice that each of them played down their own teaching abilities while praising the other's. "They'll eventually open their eyes and see the truth about their feelings for each other," he thought to himself with a smile.

When they pulled up to Grimmauld Place, Kingsley parked and the three, with a quick look around to make sure no muggles were watching, walked up to the house that Harry and Hermione had not been in since the incident at the Ministry over a year ago. As they stepped inside, Kreacher appeared from the kitchen.

"Master Harry has returned!" he cried in a deep voice. "Is Master Harry here to stay?"

"It is good to see you again Kreacher. I'll be here for a week this time. I'll be staying at the Burrow for a bit and also going to see Teddy, then I have to go back to school. But after that, I'll be here for good," Harry said, hoping Kreacher wouldn't be too disappointed at his short stay. Luckily, Kreacher understood Harry's school and family obligations.

"Kreacher is just glad Master Harry is back. Kreacher is proud to have been able to play a part in Master Harry's success at beating the Dark Lord."

Harry cringed a little, memories of the battle coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Er, thanks Kreacher. I'm – we're – very grateful for all you did for us. Would you mind making us some tea? The Minister, Hermione, and I have something we need to do before they leave."

"Of course, Master Harry. The tea will be waiting for you in the kitchen when you're finished" Kreacher said, scurrying back to the kitchen.

"Harry, you shouldn't let him call you 'master.'" Hermione said, her S.P.E.W. side coming out.

"I know, I know." Harry replied. "One step at a time, Hermione. Old habits die hard and Kreacher isn't like Dobby." A sad look washed over Harry and Hermione's faces as they remember the loyal, albeit eccentric, house elf.

Kingsley cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the two teenagers. "Well, why don't we step outside and we'll get started."

Casting a strong disillusionment charm over the three of them, Kingsley and the two teenagers walked across the street, well hidden from view by a close grouping of trees.

"Now Harry, Hermione, in order for this to work there are some things you need to understand about the Fidelius Charm. As you know, Dumbledore was the original Secret Keeper for the location of the Order of the Phoenix. When he died, everyone he had told that location to also became a Secret Keeper, thus the problem we have now in which Yaxley might be able to come here, based on what you told us about the incident at the Ministry last year. Theoretically, we could just move the location of the headquarters for the Order but quite honestly that may turn into a hassle. So, what I am proposing is the disbanding of the Order of the Phoenix, which would render the Fidelius Charm on the location of the Order of the Phoenix moot."

"WHAT?" Harry and Hermione shouted together.

"You can't disband the Order of the Phoenix!" Harry cried.

"There are still Death Eaters!" Hermione followed.

Kingsley threw up both hands, in an attempt to calm down the two, "I know, I know. However, think about it. The ministry is back in full control of, well, not death eaters. Most of the Order was killed during the course of the war last year. While there are still Death Eaters, it is time for the Order to disband but, if necessary, a new Order could appear. One for and lead by your generation, Harry. The loyalty, courage, strength, and force you and your classmates showed at the Battle of Hogwarts is testament to your generations ability to protect the wizarding world from evil. While those of us from the Order of the Phoenix who survived will always be here to guide and fight alongside of you, the time has come for us to be mentors and you all to be leaders."

Harry and Hermione paused to consider Kingsley's words. A new Order? Led by their generation?

"You may be right," Harry started slowly. "But how do we 'disband the Order of the Phoenix' in way that the Fidelius Charm will disappera?"

"Simple," Kingsley replied, pulling out a piece of parchment from his robes, "this has the signatures of the surviving official members of the Order of the Phoenix. Their signatures affirm their agreement to disband the Order of the Phoenix. Once I sign it, the Order of the Phoenix will be no more and the Fidelius Charm will also be no more. Which will free us to cast the Fidelius Charm over #12 Grimmauld Place."

The two teenagers gave each other skeptical looks but nodded for Kingsley to continue. Digging into his robes again, Kingsley pulled out a quill and ink bottle, quickly signing the parchment.

"That's it?" Hermione asked, excepting something a bit more climatic.

"That's it," Kingsley responded. "Now, the Fidelius Charm, in performing the spell, works similar to an Unbreakable Vow. I need you both to clasp the other's forearm."

Looking a little confused, Harry and Hermione gripped the other's forearm, like they were greeting each other with a medieval handshake.

Waving his wand in complex manner, Kingsley said, "Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, accept the position of Secret Keeper of the location of Harry James Potter's home, concealing the secret within your soul?"

"I do," Hermione replied, her eyes locked with Harry's and voice serious and confident.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, accept Hermione Jean Granger as the Secret Keeper of the location of your home?"

Never breaking eye contact with Hermione, Harry replied, "I do, with all my being."

"Then so shall it be. _Fidelius_ _nunc et aeternum_."

The brilliant white light seemed to cover the entire house and Hermione glowed with a deep golden hue, before everything went back to normal.

"Whoa," Harry said, the image of Hermione glowing so beautiful stuck in his mind "that was unexpected. Does that mean it worked?"

"Let's try it," Kingsley said, "Harry, look across the street, what do you see?"

"A bunch of muggle homes," Harry replied quickly.

Kingsley chuckled, "Harry, what is the address of your home?"

"My home is at … um… Well, that's odd, I am not sure where my home is located," Harry stammered, confused.

Hermione smiled as Harry struggled to answer Kingsley's question. "Well, I think that's a sure sign that the spell worked. Here, Harry, let me help you. Harry, Kingsley, the location of the home of Harry James Potter is #12 Grimmauld Place."

Relief washed over Harry's face as he was now able to recognize his home across the street.

"Well, now that that is settled, let's head back inside for some tea before I take Hermione back to the Burrow," Kingsley said, pleased that the spell worked.

As promised, Kreacher had the tea out and ready for them in the kitchen. They sat and enjoyed the fresh brew, making some small talk about school. Harry and Hermione asked Kingsley for some advice on their lesson plans, and Harry even asked him if he would be willing to come do a guest lecture for the upper years DA class. Kingsley replied he would love to, but would need to check with his schedule first. Finally, it was time for Kingsley and Hermione to go. Harry walked them to the door, trying to hide his disappointment that Hermione had to go.

"Write to let me know you made it back alright, okay?" Harry told her.

"Of course. By the way, do you want me to tell the Weasley's the location?" Hermione asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "You know, as bad as this may sound, it might be better to wait on that, ya know, until they ask."

"It's not that I don't trust them," Harry quickly said, "but it might be safer to keep this as quiet as possible for as long as possible."

Kingsley nodded in agreement, "I have to agree with Harry on this one."

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows in concentration before replying, "Yes, I think I have to agree as well." And with that, Hermione stepped forward and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself, Harry. Write if you need anything. I'll miss you," she whispered into his ear.

Harry could feel his face turning red at Hermione's words, "I'll miss you too. See you at Christmas, okay?" he whispered back.

Hermione gave him a squeeze of affirmation before breaking the embrace. Shaking hands with Kingsley, Harry waved at them as they walked to the car and drove off, silently wishing that Christmas would get there faster.


	15. An Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter 15: An Unexpected Visitor**

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He and Kreacher had spent the last five days going room by room removing the last remnants of dark spells, objects, and artifacts. Harry allowed Kreacher to only keep items that they had been able to successfully remove dark magic from without completely destroying. Kreacher had initially been very cross anytime an item was destroyed in Harry's attempts to rid it of dark magic, but once Harry promised Kreacher the spare bedroom on the second floor to live in and keep the spared items, Kreacher stayed in a much better mood. The only item that was left was the portrait of Walburga Black in the hallway by the front door. He had promised Kreacher that he wouldn't destroy the portrait but there was no way Harry could leave it there, not if Andromeda was ever going to let Harry care for Teddy.

The only solution Harry had come up with would be to use the Elder Wand to, hopefully, undo the Permanent Sticking Charm and move the portrait to Kreacher's bedroom and then place a Muffliato charm on the walls and door of the room so no one can hear the portrait's rantings and ravings. However, the plan all hinged on the ability of the Elder Wand and Kreacher's willingness to let the portrait be removed. Even if it was to be put in his room, Harry wasn't sure Kreacher would approve its removal from the hallway, not matter how their relationship had improved since they first met.

"Kreacher," Harry called out.

With a distinct pop, Kreacher appeared in the kitchen.

"Yes, Mas- Harry Potter, sir?" Kreacher asked, trying to abide by Harry's wishes to not be called 'Master.'

"Thank you for remember, Kreacher," Harry said genuinely, "I need to ask you something. I know you are very fond of the portrait of Mrs. Black but if I am to raise my godson in this house, not to mention have guests, I can't have her screaming the horrible things she does every time there is a sound louder than a whisper in that hallway. What I would like to do, rather than destroy the portrait, is to try and move the portrait to your room. This way you can still talk to her and care for her portrait. What do you think?"

Kreacher scratched his head, carefully pondering Harry's words. Harry watched nervously, hoping that Kreacher would agree.

"May I offer another suggest, sir?" Kreacher finally said.

Not expecting that question, Harry nodded for Kreacher to go on.

"While Kreacher still is deeply loyal to Mistress Black, Kreacher does not agree with all the things she says about people like Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."

Harry couldn't hide the shocked look on his face when Kreacher referred to Hermione and Ron by their proper names and not mudblood and blood-traitor.

Regaining his composure, Harry asked, "So what do you propose we do with the portrait, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher would suggest, if Harry Potter, sir, can remove it that is, to move the portrait into the Black Vault at Gringotts."

Harry thought for a moment, and seeing nothing wrong with the suggestion said, "That sounds like a brilliant idea, Kreacher. Would you propose the same thing for the, um, house elves on the staircase or would you be alright if I gave them a proper burial?"

Kreacher, still not used to being asked his opinion on matters, hesitated for a few minutes. With his eyes on the floor he replied quietly, "Kreacher is fine with Harry Potter wishes to bury them, but… if it pleases Harry Potter, sir, could Kreacher's mother go in Kreacher's bedroom?"

"Of course, Kreacher," Harry said, his heart feeling sorry for the old house-elf. "You are welcome to move her in there and place her wherever you would like."

Kreacher gave Harry, from what Harry could guess, a genuine smile and quickly left the kitchen to go move his mother's head from the staircase wall.

"Well, no time like the present to see what the Elder Wand can do," Harry said outloud to himself.

Reaching underneath his shirt, Harry pulled out the familiar moleskin pouch he had received from Hagrid on his 17th birthday. He carefully pulled out the Elder Wand, feeling a jolt like electricity running through his body. While he still felt more comfortable using his wand from Ollivander's, Harry could not deny that the Elder Wand was much more powerful.

Harry rose from the table and walked into the hallway, contemplating the best way to go about the task at hand. He finally decided to try a severing charm and then he would worry about how to repair the wall later. Walking up to the side of the portrait he first cast a silencing charm, hoping that it would be strong enough to keep the portrait quiet until he moved it into one of the bedrooms before sending it with Kreacher to place in Gringotts. Then, concentrating carefully so as to not remove a huge chunk of the wall, cast the severing charm.

To Harry's surprise, and pleasure, the charm worked perfectly, the portrait fell from wall with a loud boom, a good portion of the wall still attached to its backside. Using the severing charm to crop the bit of wall on the backside of the portrait, Harry then wrapped it in the curtain, grateful that the silencing charm was still working. After shrinking the portrait down to a manageable size for Kreacher and writing a quick note to Gringott's, he called for the house-elf.

"Yes, sir?" Kreacher said, appearing before Harry.

"Kreacher, I would like for you to take this and the other, um, house-elves, to Gringott's and deposit them into the vault. Here is the key to Black vault, along with a note giving my permission. It has my blood on it as well, in case they need further identification. If you have any problems, just come and get me."

Kreacher took the portrait, key, and note, nodded, snapped his fingers, and then disappeared. Now completely alone in the house, Harry put the Elder Wand back in the pouch beneath his shirt and headed upstairs. He shuddered a little at the house-elf heads that lined the stairs but was grateful to know that soon Kreacher would have them stored far away from the home. When Harry reached the third floor, he walked into the room that would soon be Teddy's.

It was stripped bare at the moment. Harry had painted the striped walls a mixture of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff colors, to honor Teddy's parents, and ordered furniture and a number of other things, per Hermione's suggestion, to make it fit for a baby. Most of them were set to arrive the next day, which would give him a little over a day to set everything up before going to the Weasley's for Christmas and then seeing Andromeda and Teddy. He had already owled Andromeda to invite her and Teddy over for New Year's, with another note from Hermione explaining the newly added Fidelius Charm to the location and the address, so that she could see what Harry had done with Grimmauld Place. Really, Harry just wanted to prove to her, and himself, that he could be mature and responsible enough to raise Teddy when the time came.

Most of the other bedrooms in the house were furnished, though now free of the more unpleasant objects and artifacts of the House of Black. Harry had chosen to leave Sirius' room the same and most of Regulus' possessions were now in Kreacher's room. Kreacher was insistent that Harry take the master bedroom, especially since Buckbeak was permanently staying with Hagrid. Harry reluctantly agreed, though he didn't understand why he needed such a large bedroom. However, he did enjoy decorating the walls with scarlet and gold Gryffindor colors, along with hanging pictures of his loved ones on the wall. He also had to admit it was nice to finally be sleeping in a bed that was bigger than a twin sized bed. Harry headed back downstairs, intent on going into the sitting room and working on his lessons plan for the next semester, when he heard a loud knocking at the front door.

Whipping out his wand, he cautiously, but quickly, headed down the hallway to the front door. Outside, he could hear the rain that had been predicted earlier in the day start to pour and the knocking grew louder and faster. Taking a deep breath, Harry snuck a quick look through the peephole before throwing himself back against the wall. Realizing that he had just seen Hermione, he quickly opened the door and pointed his wand directly at Hermione.

"What was my worry after Ginny and I broke up?" He said, his wand not wavering.

"That no one could love the, as you put it, 'the weak, scarred, imperfect Harry Potter,'" she replied quickly, in a broken voice.

Harry immediately pocketed his wand and pulled a rain soaked Hermione into the hallway, embracing her tightly.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, I just had to check. I forget we had the Fidelius Charm now so I don't need to worry," he said quickly, rubbing her back to try and warm her up. "Come on, let's get you by the fireplace."

Hermione merely nodded, shaking slightly from the cold. Harry led Hermione to the couch and then quickly made lit the fireplace with his wand before using a spell to dry Hermione's clothes.

"Do you need a blanket? I can make some tea?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her bowed head, her hands nervously fingering the bottom of her shirt.

Leaning down, Harry gently lifted her chin with his hand, his green eyes meeting her tear-filled brown eyes.

"Hermione," he said with deep concern, "what's wrong?"

"It's stupid, I know, I don't know why I came here without sending a note first. It was so stupid of me," she spat out, tears rushing down her cheeks.

Harry sat down next, placing his arm around her shoulders for support. "Hermione, it's okay, really. Now tell me what's going on. Why aren't you at the Burrow?"

Hermione, tears falling even faster, "R-R-Ron and I broke up."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "You broke up?"

Hermione sniffled and nodded, "Remember on the train, when he was acting all weird after he got back from patrolling? Well, it turns out he didn't just think Parvati was, was, prettier. He – he – HE SNOGGED HER!" Her voice dripped with anger and sorrow.

Harry held her tightly as she flung herself into his chest and sobbed. His mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. _Ron cheated on Hermione? They're broken up? Wait, does this mean Hermione and I have a chance? Harry, you git, now's not the time for thoughts like that! You're acting like Ron!_

He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his head and focused on comforting his heartbroken best friend. Hermione cried silently for a few more minutes before pulling away and looking into the fire.

"Harry, " she whispered, pain and insecurity in her voice, "am I that ugly and worthless that someone who supposedly loves me would go snogging the next prettiest thing he sees? Did Ron only care about me for my willingness to do his schoolwork?"

"Hermione, look at me," Harry said, trying not to let his anger at Ron seep through, "I'm serious, look at me."

Hermione turned away from the fire and met Harry's eyes.

"Hermione Granger, you are no where near ugly and Merlin knows you not worthless. Do you hear me? You are brilliant, not just when it comes to books but you are beautiful as well. I don't know what was going on in Ron's mind when he snogged Parvati but I can assure you I will kick his bloody arse from here to the States. Okay? Don't you for one second think less of yourself because of Ron's arsehole antics. You are beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, caring, and loving. Any bloke would be lucky to have you," Harry said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Th-Thank you, Harry. You have no idea how much that means to me," Hermione said, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry again for imposing on you. I-I didn't know where else to go and I couldn't stay at Ron's. This was the only place I could think of."

"Really, Hermione, it's fine. I'm glad you came. On the plus side, Ron doesn't know how to get here, thanks to the Fidelius Charm, so you can have a few days of quiet. Come on, I'll make some tea and you can tell me the full story. Kreacher should be back soon from Gringott's and I'll have him make us some dinner."

"Gringott's? What was Kreacher doing there?" Hermione asked, slightly confused.

"He's putting all of the house-elf heads on the staircase into the Black Vault, as well as the portrait in the hallway."

In her emotional state, Hermione had not even noticed that the portrait was gone from the hallway wall. "But, wait, how did you remove the portrait? I thought it had a permanent sticking charm to it? Even Sirius couldn't get that bloody thing down."

"The Elder Wand," Harry replied simply.

Hermione gave Harry a look that suggested she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. When the reached the kitchen, Hermione took a seat at the dining room table, while Harry made the tea. Soon, each with a cup of tea in hand, Hermione spilled the whole story of the break up.

"Well, ever since I got back to the Burrow, Ron had been acting all weird around me. Anytime I tried to get him alone to talk … or other things …," Harry internally cringed at the thought of Hermione and Ron snogging, "he would find an excuse to be somewhere else. I tried to see if Ginny knew anything but she kept insisting that she didn't. Finally, she agreed to help me get Ron alone so I could find out what was going on. Now I almost wish we hadn't." Fresh tears formed in Hermione's eyes. Harry reached over and patted her arm encouragingly.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione continued, "While Ron was still finishing breakfast, I went up to his room and hid using a disillusionment charm until Ginny managed to convince him to go get her a Quidditch strategies book for her from his room. She followed him upstairs and as soon as he got in the room, she shut the door and sealed it shut using a spell I taught her. While he banged on the door telling her to let him out, I removed the disillusionment charm and confronted him about his behavior the past week."

Continuing she said, "He was right pissed about the whole situation. Started trying to blame me for it all. He kept deflecting my questions about what happened while he was patrolling. I guess when he finally realized I wasn't going to back down and Ginny wasn't going to open the door, he sat down and told me the truth…" Tears were falling once again down Hermione's cheeks. "He said he felt like he had been losing me all year to you because of the whole teaching bit and that he and Parvati had been hanging out more because they were both prefects. He - he had been fancying her for a while but still had feelings for me and didn't know what to do so he kept on like things were fine. He didn't say what changed on the train, just that when he went and met Parvati in the first car, he – he 'couldn't control his hormones anymore' – I still can't believe that was his excuse – and snogged her!"

"I can't believe Parvati, let him do that," Harry said, "I mean, she knew you two were dating, I just wouldn't think she would kiss another girl's guy."

Hermione, sighed, "That's just it Harry, Parvati didn't know Ron and I were still dating."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, fearing the answer.

"Ron had told her, before he started snogging, Parvati confronted him about how he had been acting around her – you know with all the flirting – and he said he had broken up with me earlier on the train ride so he could be with her! The reason he was acting all weird around the Burrow was because he didn't know how to break up with me!"

Fresh sobs escaped Hermione as she buried her head in her arms on the table. Harry quickly rushed to the other side of the table, placing his arms around her shoulders once again, and wondered how many times he could beat Ron into the ground before the other Weasley's stepped in to stop him.

Regaining her composure, Hermione sat up and finished the story, "After that, I removed the spell from the door, went to Ginny's room, grabbed my beaded bag that had all my stuff, and came here. I-I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I know Ginny heard everything because she was outside the door. I think she was still in shock from what Ron said because she didn't come after me."

"Hermione, I think we should send a message to the Weasley's to let them know you're okay. I know you're mad at Ron, and you have every right to be, but we both know Mrs. Weasley will be in a right fit and Ginny will be worried about you too." Harry said.

Hermione nodded, using a napkin to wipe the tears from her face.

"Can you send the message?" she asked, "I just don't think I'm up to it."

"Of course," Harry said, conjuring his patronus, "Take this message to Molly Weasley at the Burrow, 'Mrs. Weasley, Hermione is with me and safe. She's sorry if she worried you, it was an emergency situation. You can ask Ronald or Ginny to explain.'"

With a nod from Harry, the patronus disappeared.


	16. Nightmares and Visions

**Chapter 16: A Nightmare and a Vision**

After Harry's patronus left, Hermione excused herself to go take a shower. Despite her clothes being dry, her hair was still rain soaked and all the stress and emotions of the last few hours warranted a hot shower. Harry told her to use the bathroom on the second floor and she was free to take whatever spare room she wished on the third, with the exception of Teddy's room. Once Hermione was gone, Harry sat back down at the kitchen table and took a long drink of his now cold tea. A thousand thoughts and emotions were whirling through his mind as thought back on everything he had just learned. A large part of him wanted to head straight to the Burrow and beat the daylights out of Ron, but he knew that would just upset Hermione more and if he had to guess, Ginny probably filled Mrs. Weasley in on what had happened. A verbal lashing from her was almost as good as an arse kicking any day.

What he didn't know what to do with was the small part of him that was thrilled that Ron and Hermione had broken up. He knew he shouldn't be happy when Hermione was clearly in so much pain but he couldn't deny his own feelings for her.

He loved her.

She was the one who always stuck with him, even when she doubted him, she always had enough faith to stay with him. She saved his arse time and time and time again. She listened to his fears without judgment. Hell, she had seen him cry more times than he cared to count in the last eight months and the only thing she expressed towards him was love and compassion. The question, though, was did she love him? Or at the very least, did she love him as more than friend?

Harry was still lost in thought when Kreacher returned with a loud pop. Snapped out of his mental back and forth, Harry turned to where Kreacher stood.

"Welcome back, Kreacher. I trust you had no problems with the goblins?"

Kreacher nodded, "None at all Master Harry. It seems that desperate your break-in last year, the money the Ministry has collected from the dead or captured Death Eaters has more than paid for the repairs to Gringotts, as well as, um, increases to their security."

Harry raised his eyebrows, curious as to what would constitute an increase in security from a dragon but let the matter be. "Very good, Kreacher. And remember, no titles, please. Also, we have a guest tonight. Hermione is here so if you don't mind preparing a bit extra for supper, I'd greatly appreciate it. Oh and she's not likely to ask for anything she needs, so if you think of something Hermione might need or if it seems like she's trying to ask for something without 'ordering' you to, please take care of it for her, if you don't mind."

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir. My apologies for using the wrong title before. Is there anything else you need before I start supper?"

"No, thank you, Kreacher. You've been a huge help today, I appreciate it, truly," Harry said genuinely.

The old house-elf gave a small smile and went off to being to prepare the evening meal. Harry left to give Kreacher some space. He went into the sitting room and gathered his lesson plans for the coming semester to take back up to his room. Heading upstairs he could still hear the shower running on the second floor.

"She must be trying to watch her feelings away as well," Harry thought sadly, continuing up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Dumping the parchment and books on his desk, he decided to pick up the clothes he had flung across the room the last few days, in case Hermione decided she wanted a tour of the house. Once the last dirty shirt was put away in the hamper, he made his bed, and with one last look around the room, he headed back downstairs to the sitting room.

When Hermione came back downstairs, clean and in a fresh pair of clothes, she found Harry sitting on the couch reading a book on Defense Against the Darks that he had gotten from Sirius.

"Harry Potter reading on a holiday? Now I've seen everything," she joked.

Harry laughed and closed his book. "Now, now, I'm hurt that you would consider me so lazy," he said in a mock hurt tone.

Hermione laughed and shook her head, "Now, now Mr. Potter, have you given me any reason to think otherwise in the past 8 years?"

Harry laughed and shrugged his shoulder. "Okay, I have to give you a point there."

As the two kept laughing, Kreacher walked into the room and announced that supper was ready. The two hungry teens rushed to the kitchen to see an elaborate supper laid out before them.

"Oh Kreacher, this is wonderful, you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Kreacher, you've truly outdone yourself," Harry said, his mouth watering at the sight of fresh rolls, honey ham, roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, pumpkin pie and bread pudding.

Kreacher, clearly proud of himself and pleased to be complimented said, "'Tis nothing, Harry Potter, sir. Kreacher is proud to serve Harry Potter and provide a good meal for him and his mistress."

"Mistress?" Hermione said, her eyes darting to Harry.

"He just means guest," Harry said quickly, his cheeks growing red with embarrassment.

"Yes, Kreacher simply meant guest," Kreacher said deviously, before leaving the kitchen.

Luckily for Harry, Hermione was too busy paying attention to her stomach than Kreacher's tone and took his word without a second tonight. Harry sighed in relief and they both dug into the feast before them without another word. By the time they had both eaten their fill, there was still a ton of food leftover.

"I don't want all this food to go to waste," Harry said. "Hermione, would you mind helping me put some away in the fridge for later, so Kreacher doesn't have to?"

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said.

"That's so sweet of him to care about Kreacher," she thought to herself. "He's such a sweet man… Wait, did I just call Harry a sweet man? What am I thinking?"

Shaking her head free of the thought, Hermione grabbed the plate of ham and headed towards the cupboard to find a container to put it in. An hour later, all the food was put away and the dishes were done.

"Well, if it's alright with you, Harry, I think I'm going to head to bed. It's been an exhausting day," Hermione said, yawning.

"Of course, Hermione. To be honest I'm pretty worn out myself," Harry replied, stifling his own yawn. "If you need anything, just let Kreacher or I know, okay?"

Hermione nodded and the two headed up the stairs, pausing long enough at the third floor to say good night before Harry headed up to his bedroom.

Changing into his pajamas, Harry crawled into bed and stared for a bit at the ceiling. If he could see down into the room directly below him, he would have seen Hermione doing the exact same thing. Both of them contemplating their feelings for the other. Both of them wondering if the other felt the same. Both falling into an uneasy sleep.

Harry's dream took the same course they had been for the past month. It started with the battle in the Department of Mysteries during his 5th year at Hogwarts. He watched as one by one his friends were wounded and injured. He watched, not as Sirius body fell through the veil, but Hermione's. He screamed for Hermione, fighting against the hands that held him back before the dream shifted to Malfoy Manor. Trapped in the dungeon, this time alone, he could hear Hermione's screams pierce through the cement walls. He pounded his fists against the walls until they bled, screaming Hermione's name, begging to be let out.

"Harry! Harry!" he heard her shouting, but it sounded different, closer yet far off.

"Harry! Harry! You've got to wake up. Come on, it's me, it's Hermione! Come back to me, Harry! Please! Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes, his lungs begging for air, his face burning with tears, his body covered in sweat. Shaking he felt around for his glasses before Hermione gently placed them on his ears and cupped his face with her hands.

"Harry, it's Hermione. Do you know where you are?" she asked, concerned.

Still shaking, his nodded, his mind trying to grasp that Hermione was in front of him, alive, not dead, not being tortured.

"Harry, I need you to answer me," Hermione said softly, her eyes remaining locked into his, her hands holding his face steady.

"I-I'm at Grimmauld Place, my bedroom." Harry chocked, his throat dry. "I-I'm sorry, I forgot to place a silencing charm on the room before I feel asleep."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. Very seriously, she asked, "Harry, why would you feel the need to place a silencing charm on the room? I thought your nightmares were getting better, happening less frequently?"

Harry pulled his face from her hands and looked down, mentally kicking himself for mentioning the silencing charm he had been placing on his room every night so Kreacher wouldn't hear his screaming. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. Hermione, however, wouldn't budge.

"Harry, I'm not leaving here until you tell me what's going on," she said definitively before softening her voice, "Harry, it's me. You know you can tell me anything. I'm worried about you."

Harry straightened his glasses before raising his eyes to meet hers. Finally finding his voice he said, "The nightmares… They've been getting worse… not better… I didn't want to worry you or anyone else. I mean Voldemort's gone so they're nothing but just plain old nightmares. Nothing for anyone to be concerned with… I've been placing a silencing charm on the drawn curtains of my bed at Hogwarts and then on my room here so no one would get woken up by… well I assume I end up shouting at some point during them."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "You sounded like your soul was being ripped from you. I thought you were dying. You kept shouting, 'No, no, please, take me. Kill me instead.' Harry, you have to tell me what you were dreaming about."

"I can't," Harry whispered back. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that for the last few months, it was her he watched die every night. It was her that made him scream as though he was dying. It was her that he begged to die in place of.

"Harry, please, I can't help you if I don't have all the information," Hermione whispered, taking his hand into hers. "I promise, we'll get through this together. No judgments from me, remember?"

Harry nodded and gripped her hand tightly. "It's you, Hermione," he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Every night I see you either get taken into the veil in the Department of Mysteries, or I listen to you being tortured by Bellatrix at Malfoy Manner. I-I-I scream and I scream, trying so desperately to get to you, to help you, to save you, but I can't. I sound like my soul is getting ripped out because that's what it feels like. I felt what it was like to death, Hermione. This, what I feel every night not being able to save you, it a thousand times worse than death could ever be. I-…" Harry's voiced trailed off as he desperately tried to fight off the tears.

Hermione pulled Harry to her, gripping him tightly. "It's alright, Harry," she whispered. "I'm here. I'm alive. I'm okay. You don't have to worry, I'm here. It's okay." Harry held on to her, tears flowing down his face but no sounds coming from him. She was safe. She was alive.

"Harry," she said, pulling away from him slightly, "I know you think these are plain old nightmares, and in a way they are, but its not normal for anyone to have nightmares this frequently or to this degree."

Harry didn't respond. He thought back to all the times Uncle Vernon called him a freak, maybe there was more truth to those words than he gave Vernon credit for.

Hermione, seemingly able to read his mind, "Harry, it doesn't make you any less of a person or different or a freak. It just means you've gone through so much in your life. More than anyone deserves. And you've never gotten the help you needed. You've spent your entire life trying to help others and save the entire world, you've never let other help you, at least in something other than helping others or saving the entire world."

Harry remained quiet, trying to take in what Hermione was saying.

"Harry, I want you to promise me, no more secrets. No more pretending to be okay when you're not. When you have nightmares, I don't care whether their about me or Kreacher or the Peeves, you tell me or tell someone, if you don't think you can tell me. You have to stop bottling everything inside or… or one day you might hurt yourself and- and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," Hermione said, tears forming in her eyes.

"Hey now," Harry said gently, "You aren't going to lose me. I'm sorry for worrying and scaring you. I promise, no more secrets, no more playing pretend. Just – just have some patience with me, please. I'm-I'm not good at this whole baring your soul thing. At least not on a regular basis."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Think you're alright to go back to sleep?"

"Yeah, I think so," Harry replied.

Hermione got up and headed to the door.

"Hermione…" Harry called out.

Stopping, she turned around and said, "Yes, Harry?"

More than anything in the world, Harry wanted to ask her to stay with him that night. To be near him, to let him hold on to her so he knew she was there and that she was safe. But he knew that wasn't fair to take advantage of her, even if she and Ron were broken up.

"Um, thanks, you know, for all this. Means a lot."

"Oh," Hermione said, almost sounding disappointed, "Of course, Harry, anytime. If you need anything I'm below you." She turned back around and head out the door. As she closed it, she called out, "And no silencing charms!"

Harry laughed to himself as the door clicked close. Placing his glasses back on the nightstand, he rolled over and silently praying there would be no more dreams that night. No sooner had he closed his eyes, when suddenly he was thrown on his back, his body spasming violently, thrashing against the covers. Harry's eyes shot open but they were glazed over.

"_Reducto!"_

_"Ha Ha, you'll have to do better than that Potter! Come on, break out the Elder Wand. It's your only chance of beating me, though I am enjoying putting a beating to your pathetic excuse for a body."_

_ Harry was standing, badly bruised and bleeding, in a snow covered street facing an unknown figure in black robes, hood drawn, obscuring the man's face._

_ "Stupefy!"_

_ "Protego! … Sectumsempra!" _

_ Harry tried to put up a shield but in his weakened state he wasn't fast enough. Deep gashes appeared over his body. He screamed in agony and fell to his knees. _

"Harry? Are you awake, listen I need to talk to you about something," Hermione opened the door to Harry's room and walked in. "I thought it might be easier if – HARRY!"

Hermione rushed to Harry's bedside. His body was still thrashing, eyes glazed, face contorted in pain, and his mouth open, silently screaming. "HARRY! HARRY WAKE UP!"

_The hooded figure watched as Harry slowly bled out. "CRUICIO!" Harry's screams pierced the night air. "Let's end this, shall we Potter? As long as I kill you, the Elder Wand is mine, and I'll find it soon enough once the wizarding world is at my mercy. The Boy Who Lived will finally be dead for good." Three other hooded figures appeared behind the figure , followed by dozens more in blood red death eater masks_

_ Harry, barely holding on to consciousness, braced himself for what he knew was coming._

_ "Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry bolted forward in his bed. Struggling to catch his breath, his body tingling painfully where the spells had hit his body.

Hermione grabbed his face and watched as the glazed eyes came back into focus. "Harry, can you hear me?"

Hermione's face slowly came into Harry's vision, but her voice sounded far off.

"Harry, please, answer me," Hermione pleaded, tears steaming down her cheeks. "Harry, you're scaring me!"

Unable to breathe, Harry could feel himself slipping into darkness. Just before he passed out he managed to whisper, "Hermione. Help."

Harry opened his eyes to find daylight shining through the bedroom window. "Was it all a dream?" he thought to himself. He tried to roll over to get his glasses but found his arm being gripped by another person. Turning his head slightly, he found a large bushel of brown hair nestled on his shoulder. Harry started to panic. "Why is Hermione in my bed? What's going on? Oh Merlin! What do I do?"

Before he could come up with an answer to any of those questions, Hermione stirred. Lifting her head cautiously, she smiled with relief to see that Harry was awake. Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him tightly.

"Um, Hermione? Not that I don't mind the morning greeting, but can you tell me what's going on?" Harry said, secretly thrilled what was happening.

"Oh," Hermione said dejectedly.

"OH!" she exclaimed, "Harry, this isn't what you think it is!"

"And what exactly do I think it is?" Harry asked mischievously.

"Ugh, blokes," Hermione grumbled, hitting Harry with her pillow. "I just meant that you probably don't remember what happened last night." Changing to a gentler tone, "Harry, what do you remember from last night?"

"Well, I remember you waking me up from my usual nightmare and us talking about it. Then you made me promise to always tell you or someone when I have a nightmare. Then you left. Then… Then I remember I put my glasses back on the night stand and rolled over to go to sleep but…" Harry trailed off.

"But what, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Quietly, Harry replied, "But then it was like my body was being possessed. I remember being thrown on my back and then I-I'm not sure what I was seeing…"

Hermione shifted closer to Harry and placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Harry, tell me what you saw."

"Well, I was dueling this hooded figure in a street. There was snow everywhere. I-I wasn't winning, that's for sure. It didn't look like the guy had a scratch on him and I was beaten up pretty good… Anyway, the guy kept taunting me, trying to get me to use the Elder Wand. When I didn't, he hit me with _Sectumsempra_… I was too slow with my shield, " Harry said, ashamed. "The pain… Merlin, Hermione, it was almost as bad as being hit with the _Cruciatus Curse_, which he then proceeded to throw at me. And even though it was a dream, or whatever it was, it felt so real, like it was really happening… Finally, he said he didn't need me to tell him where the Elder Wand was because if I was dead, he'd be able to find it on his own because he'd be in control of the wizarding world… Then…" Harry's voice trailed off again. He couldn't bring himself to tell Hermione the end.

"Harry, what happened next?" she asked.

"It-it doesn't matter," Harry replied, not looking her in the eye.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione said, "Don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter, not after what you promised me last night. I don't care what it is or how you think I might react, tell me what happened."

Harry looked up and paused for a moment, staring into Hermione's eyes. He could read the concern, worry, and fear in her eyes, as though they were words written clearly on parchment. Against his will, he finished the dream.

"Three other hooded figures appeared behind him… Then dozens more, only they had on these red death eater's masks… And then… Then, I heard him yell the Killing Curse and, I think that's when I woke up. That parts a little fuzzy, to be honest. I remember hearing you and seeing you but then it was like as soon as everything was in focus, it all went dark."

Hermione sighed, "You passed out almost as soon as your eyes came back into focus. You were hyperventilating so badly your brain wasn't getting enough oxygen to stay conscious. I couldn't get you to wake back up, even though you started breathing normally, so I stayed with you, hoping you'd wake up. I guess I fell asleep."

Harry smiled, "Well that explains what I woke up to this morning."

Hermione returned the smile before her face turned serious, "Harry, I don't think what you had was a dream… I think it might have been a vision, a future vision."

Terror washed over Harry, "Wait, like what I used to have with Voldemort? But that's not possible. The connection's gone! Voldemort's soul isn't in me anymore. He's dead!"

"No, no. Harry, you're right. Voldemort's gone, this has nothing to do with him," Hermione said quickly, trying to calm his fears. "I meant I think you were having a vision of the future, like what Trelawney would have on those very, VERY, rare occasions. Just instead of a prophecy you got a detailed look at a future event in your life."

"You mean I got a detailed look at how I'm going to die," Harry shot back, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

"You don't know that, Harry!" said Hermione, her voice trembling. "All you heard was the spell being said. Anything could have happened afterward. And besides, regardless, I-we're not going to let that vision come to pass."

"We're not?" Harry asked, confused.

"Of course not! Clearly you had this vision for some purpose, it only makes sense it is so that we can make sure it doesn't come to pass," Hermione reasoned calmly.

"I thought you didn't put any stock into Divination, Miss Granger," Harry teased.

"Hmpfh," Hermione retorted, clearly annoyed, "awfully smart remark for the boy who just saw himself possibly die and managed to scare his best friend half to death twice in one night."

Embarrassed, Harry apologized, "Merlin, Hermione. I'm so sorry, I can't believe I was so thick to not even realize that I did that to you. You shouldn't have been put in that position. I'm sorry."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said, "I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty. I was just teasing back. Now, we need to figure out this vision."

Hermione scooted off the bed and went over to Harry's desk, picking up a spare piece of parchment, quill, and ink bottle.

"Harry, I want you to write down everything you saw in the vision, every detail, no matter how minute. I'm going to go downstairs and have Kreacher make some breakfast. After we eat and you finish up whatever you needed to do today, we'll do some research," she said, passing off the parchment, quill, and ink to Harry, and then heading out the door.

"Huh, well, she took that better than I would have guessed," he thought to himself. "Fully expected her to go into research mode now."

Harry quickly wrote down all that he could remember, even sketching, as best he would, the hooded figure. It wasn't much but it was something. When he finished, he placed everything back on the desk and went to go take a shower. Throwing off his shirt, Harry stared at the mirror in shock. A deep red mark was slashed across his chest, in the exact same spot her remembered seeing Snape's curse cut through him in the vision. He carefully touched it, relieved to find that it didn't hurt to touch, though clearly the skin was irritated.

"Well that can't be good," he muttered to himself as he turned on the shower. "Best not tell Hermione about this, she's being so calm about all this as it, no reason to freak her out more."

Little did Harry know that Hermione, after asking Kreacher if he would make them some breakfast, adamant to emphasis it wasn't an order much to Kreacher's amusement, had returned to her room. Through hot tears she was pouring over every book on Divination, dreams, and visions she had in her possession, desperately searching for a way to save Harry.

"I won't let him die," she kept saying over and over to herself. "I won't let him die alone again."


End file.
